Hell Hath no Fury
by noothernames
Summary: Brittany and Santana want a child. What Brittany also wants is for Santana to carry said child. She soon discovers the unholy terror that is a pregnant Santana. Hold on to Lord Tubbington, girl. It's going to be a bumpy ride.
1. Compromises

This is going to be a multi-chapter fic about Brittany and Santana getting pregnant and dealing with the unholy terror of wild mood swings, unpredictable sex drive, food cravings, jealousy, and body changes. This story is dedicated to my friend Sloane aka ruthlessloane on tumblr because 95% of what happens in this is her fault. I told her to write it herself but apparently she "doesn't do that". So with that established, I hope you enjoy the story.

* * *

><p>Part One –Compromises<p>

Santana knew the day would come. But she didn't know it would come quite so soon.

She and Brittany had done very well for themselves. They had been inseparable after high school. They survived higher education and got great, fulfilling jobs that they loved. Santana became a successful lawyer and Brittany toured as a backup dancer for a while before settling down and starting her own dance school. They moved from their cramped apartment to a slightly roomier one, and then finally to their spacious two storey home. Then, after years of pressure from their families, they finally got married. They were happy.

But the happiness can only last so long before it becomes restless, seeking to become bolstered by something new, something _more_.

So, they had already checked off "Love", "Marriage" and "Successful careers" off the list that made up the American dream. It didn't take a genius to figure out what the next step on the list was. Santana certainly didn't have to guess what step Brittany was focusing on when she noticed the accumulation of parenting magazines and baby books on her coffee table one day.

Brittany was immersed in the pile, staring at an image of a delicate, pink baby dressed in a white, frilly monstrosity. She had a glazed-over look on her face that she usually reserved for kittens and ducks. In that moment Santana froze in a mild panic. The fear of the unknown came over her in a way that she hadn't experienced for years, since a moment of cold feet before her wedding.

The blonde didn't notice her at first, but then a nervous twitch gave her away. Her wife looked up at her from the picture with a gaping mouth and flushed face that shouldn't have been nearly as endearing as Santana was finding it. The brunette cracked a smile and cautiously stepped forward.

"Hey baby," she said, without thinking.

Brittany blinked. The word baby seemed to ricochet through her system. Her eyes lit up brightly.

"Baby," she said with conviction.

"Yes?" Santana ventured, hoping this was just Brittany's term of endearment for her.

The blonde shook her head.

"No. _Baby_," She held up the picture, "We should have a baby."

No such luck.

_Ohgodohgodohgod._

"You know, those things take time to make. You can't just have one right away," she tried to deter the girl.

Maybe this was just a passing fancy. Like the time Brittany thought she needed a potbellied pig until she decided that the effort of keeping it away from Quinn when she visited would be too much (Quinn still retained her almost religious devotion to bacon). Santana could have sworn that they still had a couple years to go until they were ready to have the baby conversation. Apparently Brittany had other plans.

"I know that. It takes nine months. But first you have to wait until you're ovulating, and it might take a bit to actually get pregnant. I read all about it in this book."

Someone had actually written a book entitled "So you want to make lady babies? A guide for the Sapphically inclined". It was lengthy too. The brunette sighed and tossed it carelessly onto the table. She ignored the slight glare Brittany threw her way when she caught the action. Setting down her briefcase, she sat down on the couch and snaked an arm around her wife's waist. Brittany, however, didn't want comfort, she wanted confirmation.

"So can we? Can we have a baby? I really want one."

She had apparently decided that the way she was most likely to gain a "yes" out of Santana was by straddling the girl's waist and pressing their forms intimately together. It was a good ploy, but the word "baby" broke through the haze of sex muddling Santana's mind about as well as a cold shower would. So, with sober mind, she focused on the blonde's eyes, set her jaw, and responded with a, "We'll see."

She thought it was a good response. It was noncommittal. She wasn't saying yes but she wasn't engulfing Brittany's dream in flames either. It was a perfect non-response.

Her wife seemed to interpret it slightly differently, however. She let out a shriek and started peppering Santana's face with kisses. In midst of the attack, the brunette desperately tried to tell her that she didn't say yes, that they would have to talk about it more, but the girl just moved from placing soft pecks to dragging hot, open mouthed kisses across Santana's neck. Suddenly she couldn't quite recall what objections she might have at the moment as a greater need presented itself to her.

But the next day she most certainly remembered. Then came the worrying. And later the panicking.

She paced her study and asked herself who in their right mind would think that she would make a good parent? She certainly didn't have the best track record for being warm and nurturing. In fact, she was probably the opposite of what a mother should be. But when she tried explaining all this to Brittany while making dinner, the girl didn't even pause from chopping the carrots.

"Babe, you were mean in high school. A lot of things have changed since then. You're not hiding anything anymore so there's no real reason for you to be angry. And when's the last time you said something mean to the ones you love?"

She said "the ones you love" as though there was someone else in this world that Santana could love as much as her wife. There wasn't, not even close. But if they went ahead with this, there would be. She would have a son or daughter for her to protect and love. And just the thought of harming them with the barbs that she would regularly use in high school wrenched her chest with pain.

Dear God, she was actually feeling bad about something she hasn't even done to someone that didn't even exist yet. She's become a sap.

Maybe she really _was_ ready to have a kid.

But to be sure she'd have to ask an objective observer.

"Dude! You should totally make me the kid's godfather. I watched those movies like a million times."

Unfortunately, she found out that Puck was the opposite of this.

Santana gave him a withering look, but that didn't seem to tone down his enthusiasm.

"No seriously. I've gotten it in with both of the kid's moms, I deserve _some_ kind of title. I want to be the godfather, it sounds awesome. None of this 'Uncle Puck' shit," he crossed his arms over his chest and nodded, satisfied with his decision.

"You're supposed to be helping me make a decision here. If you can't even pay attention enough to give me an opinion, why in the hell would I trust you with my kid? Who, by the way, doesn't even exist yet," the girl told him icily.

The teenage boy trapped in a man's body dropped his arms and looked cowed for a moment. Then he caught onto her wording.

"Yet, huh?"

She shook her head and took another swig of her beer. Why was Puck her closest guy friend again? Sometimes she really had to wonder.

"Yet or maybe won't ever exist, I don't know. Brittany's trying to convince me that I'd make a good mom but I'm not so sure. Maybe she's willing to forget about what a bitch I am sometimes if she gets a kid out of it," she shrugged.

Puck threw her a disbelieving look and she groaned and washed a hand over her face.

"Shit, no that's not right. She wouldn't do that."

He grunted in agreement. He figured that Santana needed to do some talking and it was best not to interrupt.

"But sometimes I think she just sees the good in me. But I've got bad too. Plenty of bad. And, as much as I'd try with this kid, the bad might come out and scar them for life or give them issues or something. Them they'd hate me and have to spend thousands of dollars on therapy," she couldn't help but make the scenario bleaker and bleaker until she had her head buried in her hands, in absolute dismay.

"Quit being such a pussy."

At that she lifted her head up to look at a stern-looking Puck, snapping out of her funk.

"What did you just call me?" the bitchiness came out automatically out of shock.

He narrowed his eyes and looked down at her disdainfully.

"You heard me. You're being a coward. No one's a perfect parent. All you can do is try your goddamn best. I'm not the most stand-up guy out there but you'd better believe that if I had the money to support Beth in high school I would have been an amazing dad," he got a wistful, pained look on his face and Santana immediately felt like the biggest jerk in the world.

"Puck, I'm-" she started, but he wouldn't let her go on with whatever consolatory words she was planning to use.

"Dirty diapers, bedtime stories, ballet rehearsals or soccer games. I would have done it all and not worried whether the 'bad' me was coming out. That's just some bullshit excuse," He spat.

At that, Santana seemed to deflate. She had a hard time looking him in the eyes, but agreed with a small "You're right." She was just so down on herself it was almost pitiable. Puck hadn't wanted to discourage her, he just wanted to get her ass in gear. He eased up on the glare and gave her a small smile.

"Come on Santana. You'll be that cool mom that every kid wishes they could have. And you think that you could be a bad mom when you've got a mini-Brittany running around? I would think that that kid would be lucky."

He was saying the right things it seemed because Santana was meeting his eyes with a hopeful gaze. Good thing too, because it was all true.

"You'll protect your child with everything you have and even though you might not say it as much as Brittany will, the kid's going to know you love them. I swear, a son or daughter of yours and Brittany is going to grow up to be the most spoiled, self-confident, happy, and loved person in the world," he finished, laughing slightly.

Then, feeling awkward with the atypical outpouring of emotions, he sniffed loudly and then took a long swig of beer, which he nearly choked on when Santana uncharacteristically engulfed him in a hug.

"You almost made me spill my beer."

"Good. It's disgusting. If you expect me to consider you in the running to be the baby's godfather you'd better stop handing me cheap-ass beer when I come over to hang out."

* * *

><p>Her decision on the matter made, the next day she sat Brittany down on their couch and thought of where to start.<p>

"So… how is this baby thing going to work? Are we going to a sperm bank or getting it from someone we know?"

Santana had never seen such a big grin on her wife's face before. She was practically glowing with excitement and Santana thought fondly about how beautiful the blonde would be pregnant.

"I think from a sperm bank because I don't know who we'd ask," it was obvious that Brittany was restraining herself from showing too much enthusiasm, lest she scare the baby discussion away.

"I agree. If we ask Finn, Puck, or Sam, where basically guaranteed a dumb, nerdy baby, possibly with weird nipples."

"What about Art-"

"NO. If you think I'm going to let your ex-boyfriend impregnate you, you've got another thing coming."

The girl huffed and crossed her arms defensively. How insensitive of Brittany to even mention Wheels as though he was a real option. Brittany wasn't even looking apologetic, just confused.

"Wait, who said I was the one getting pregnant?"

Now Santana was the one who was confused.

"Didn't you want to be the one who gets to shoot out a 7 pound bundle of joy?"

That was, apparently the wrong thing to say. Brittany's normally bright disposition immediately turned dark.

"You just assumed I was going to carry the baby. I'm not going to be your stay at home wife that is subserviette to you and always takes on the role of mother just because I'm not as tough as you are. This is supposed to be an equal partnership."

Brittany's glare could peel paint. Santana shrunk back into the couch in retreat.

"Subservient," Santana corrected in a daze.

"Right. Rachel taught me that one," Brittany nodded sharply, standing her ground.

At least she knew who to blame for this situation. Maybe with a combination of guilt tripping and lies she could convince Rachel to become their surrogate. Santana could say that due to her own extreme gayness her uterus rejects sperm, preventing her from becoming pregnant. Yeah, that could work. Berry would be gullible enough to believe it.

But then again, Brittany wouldn't want someone else experiencing all the "magic" of pregnancy for them.

The blonde was now looking at her as though she expected an answer and Santana felt the catch of panic in her chest. This wasn't happening. Maybe she could weasel her way out of this.

"But you would be so beautiful pregnant! You'd be even more gorgeous than you already are," She reasoned.

"You'd be beautiful too, it's called pregnant woman's glow. Everyone has it," her wife countered.

"And you would think about the baby's wellbeing more than I would. I can imagine you reading and singing to the baby while pregnant. When it comes to me, I'm sure the baby is more likely to hear the sound of some random porno playing than me singing to it."

Brittany shrugged.

"They have to learn about sex sometime."

"But I feel that you would get your pre-pregnancy body back quicker than I would. What if I have the baby and never get my hot body back and then you don't want to have sex with me because my vagina is a gaping cavern? And then you'll take the baby and leave me with your stupid cat."

And now she was crying, great. It didn't take much these days to set her off. She wiped the tears off her cheeks with the back of her hand and avoided all eye contact. Brittany, not one to be ignored, climbed onto her lap and clasped Santana's head in her two hands.

"Look at me, honey. None of that is going to happen. I will always want you and love you. Until you tell me to stop. And even then I probably wouldn't listen," the goofy grin on the blonde's face was irresistible. Santana felt her mouth tug up into a smile.

"If you carry our child, I promise to love you and support you with everything I have. I will take care of you, go for midnight snack runs, and give you foot massages."

That _did_ sound nice. Brittany was so considerate.

"And, of course, I'll give you all the sex you want. Anytime, however many times, whenever you want. It'll be awesome."

Brittany would later regret this last promise but for now she relished the instant look of arousal on her wife's face. Hands softly cupped her ass and she bit her lip, teasingly.

"Really?" Santana murmured in wonder and want.

"Well, I hear that pregnant women get really horny. I'm prepared to spend as much time under the covers as is needed."

"Or in the shower?" Santana offered.

"On the kitchen counter?" The blonde said, smirking.

"Up against the wall?"

"Wherever you want," Brittany trailed her fingers up and down Santana's chest and neck teasingly, enough to feel that her pulse was going crazy.

Santana took the image of her woman in. The more the blonde talked, saying she'd love and protect her, the more acutely Santana felt it. She wanted to have Brittany's baby. Even if her vagina would never be the same, she wanted to create an embodiment of their love for one another. And the promise of more sex than she could handle certainly helped too. She pressed her hands to Brittany's waist and swallowed with some difficulty.

"So, I know you're supposed to wait until you have the sperm to try to impregnate me but… we could always use the practice, right?" She watched Brittany's face go from neutral to jubilant in mere seconds.

The next thing she knew, Brittany leapt off of her and picked her up, holding her bridal style in her arms before she could so much as let out a surprised squeak.

"Brittany!"

The girl didn't respond right away, but planted a kiss solidly on the brunette's mouth, stopping any protests she might have. Breathless, Santana could only look up at her wife's determined face.

"You better prepare yourself, because I'm going to give you the once-a-year orgasm. Hope you don't have anything to do tomorrow because you're not going to be able to leave the bed."

_Oh sweet Jesus._ The infamous once-a-year orgasm, the one that's so good that you can only have it once a year. Or else too many work days would be missed in favour of lying in a post-sex haze. But she was getting it tonight. And it wasn't even their anniversary.

"My body is ready," Santana murmured.

"We'll see babe, we'll see."

The next day they set up an appointment with their doctor to discuss getting pregnant (Well, Brittany set it up while Santana stayed in bed, in a sweet stupor). Little did they know what they were getting into. Brittany would soon find out that hell hath no fury like a pregnant Santana scorned. Whether said scorn is real or imagined. But for now they were blissfully happy in their blissful ignorance.


	2. Betrayal

Thanks for all the lovely reviews last chapter. I am overwhelmed by the response. Maybe I should do multi-chaptered brittana stories more often! Someone asked for my tumblr url, it's incredibly original, just to let you know. Noothernames dot tumblr dot com. Bet you didn't expect that, huh? Oh and just to warn you guys, chapter three is going to have le sex in it, so I'm going to up the rating, but the one after that should be fine for you T-raters.

* * *

><p>Part Two –Betrayal<p>

Their donor was chosen –a blonde haired, blue eyed marine biologist, upon Brittany's insistence. Because how could they pass up the chance to get a sample from someone who plays with dolphins all day?

"That would be just stupid," Brittany maintained.

Santana didn't try to argue against the choice because all her main criteria had been met. The guy had some Brittany-like features, was good-looking, and definitely smart, which reduced the chances of popping out an ugly, dumb kid (that she would love all the same, Brittany forcibly reminded her to add). But as if to give her the extra incentive to choose the donor, Brittany added that his sperm could probably swim really well too. Santana rolled her eyes at that, but it turned out to be true, it only took them two tries to conceive. Or maybe Santana was just super fertile without even knowing it.

For a while there Santana sure didn't _feel_ pregnant. She was exactly the same as before, the same badass bitch from Lima Heights who had a soft spot for a certain blonde. Except now she would be going about her day, inspecting food labels in the grocery store or going over some tedious documents at work and she would pause for a moment with the realisation that she was _pregnant_. She had this soon to be baby inside of her, growing slowly.

It felt weird. Maybe more so because she wasn't getting any of the typical symptoms quite yet or growing bigger.

But the weirdness went away when Brittany got into the habit of cooing softly to Santana's stomach before they went to bed each night. She would tell their child about how excited they were to meet it and about how they were going to love it and care for it. On one particular night, she even promised to take it to Disney World.

When Santana told her not to make promises about theme parks this early on Brittany laughed and rested her head on her stomach.

"We're really doing something amazing, Santana," She said in awe.

She started tracing patterns on Santana's side and whispering some more. Santana's chest felt tight with affection. This was what it was all about. It wasn't about gaining pregnancy weight, about her vagina resembling the Grand Canyon, or even whether the baby was going to have puffy pyramid nipples. It was about her and Brittany being in love and wanting to make their lives even fuller.

As if to confirm that she had made the right decision, Brittany softly kissed her stomach before murmuring "I love you so much."

And then she put her lips somewhere else entirely –one of the fringe benefits of carrying Brittany's baby. Constant. Sex.

Six weeks later, things would prove to be drastically different.

"Brittany! Where are you? I neeeeeeeeed you!"

Santana was desperate. She was bedridden, wrapped in a cocoon-like structure formed of various blankets, sheets, and quilts. She weakly tore the layers off of herself and threw them onto the floor in aggravation. This was her great time of need and Brittany was off who-knows-where doing who-knows-what.

She had never in her life felt so sad and alone. The sting of bitter tears burned the corner of her eyes. She was convinced that only the true pain she felt at this moment in time was keeping her from falling head first into a well of despair, never to escape. But if she was left alone and unloved for much longer she felt she might utterly disintegrate into nothing.

"Brittany!" she cried out once more, using up the last reservoir of strength she had left.

This was it, her last ditch effort at salvation, all for naught. She would have to succumb to the pain now, giving herself over to whatever higher power existed. She hoped that it wouldn't be too long before they found her body because she was actually looking kind of hot at the moment but she most certainly wouldn't be after two weeks' time.

Suddenly the bedroom door burst open and there was Brittany, panting and looking dishevelled. The yellow rubber gloves she was wearing, as well as the bits of soap bubbles that clung to her explained what had kept her away from her ailing wife. Within seconds she was kneeling next to the bed, worry permeating her expression.

"Yes sweetie? Are you okay? What's wrong? Do I need to call the doctor?"

Santana took in a shaky breath and reached a hand out, searching for Brittany's own hand. Seeing the action, the blonde clasped them together and softly kissed the top of her wife's hand.

"Brittany-!"

"Yes?"

"My boobs hurt. So much right now."

And with that, the worry-filled air seemed to dissipate. Brittany breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. But she couldn't let Santana think that she wasn't taking this seriously.

"And what would you like me to do, honey? Do you need me to massage them?"

"Is sex all you think about?" Santana reproached.

Flabbergasted by this rather unSantana-like admonishment, Brittany searched for what would be the proper response. A loud sniff from the brunette brought the girl to her senses, realising that her wife was just dealing with some heavy duty pregnancy hormones at the moment. She just needed to be handled with care. Smiling softly, Brittany brushed away the rivulets now running down Santana's cheek with the blade of her thumb.

"You're my wife, Santana. All the sex in the world isn't as important as what you need from me right now. So go ahead, tell me what you need."

Reassured by this, Santana took in a shaky breath.

"I need…"

"Yes?"

"Breadsticks."

Brittany quirked an eyebrow. Leave it to Santana to think that breadsticks would cure breast pain.

"Okay, I'll get on tha-"

"With strawberry yogurt! I need them both so that I can dunk the breadstick in the yogurt and eat it. I don't know why I never thought of it before, it's such a great idea," Santana smiled in a smug way.

The blonde smiled too, though her stomach roiled at the thought of that combination.

"Sure, babe. I'll go get those right after I give Lord Tubbington his insulin shot."

Santana's smug expression morphed into a sour one that was not improved when said cat walked into the room.

Yes, Lord Tubbington was still alive, though most veterinarians say he shouldn't have made it to this age with all that weight on him. He was senile and diabetic and had a meow that was so gravelly it sounded like a bird's squawk, but he was alive.

Lord Tubbington croaked and Brittany squealed in delight, running over to pick him up. She held him close, nuzzling him.

"Who's my little baby Tubbington? You are! You're so special and cute and fuzzy. I love you so much!"

Lord Tubbington didn't respond, just looked blankly towards Santana, who glared at him resentfully.

"You never call _me_ special and cute and fuzzy…" She muttered under her breath

Brittany raised her head, "What was that?"

"Nothing," She lied.

The rumble of Lord Tubbington's purr filled the room and in that moment Santana _knew_.

She _hated_ that smug bastard, more than ever before.

Ever since she got pregnant –no, ever since Lord Tubbington first came into Brittany's life fifteen years ago, Brittany has been choosing him over Santana. Giving him special treatment. Paying him more attention. And Brittany swore otherwise, but sometimes Santana thought she might even love that damn cat more than her own wife.

Santana had grown to accept this to a point. After all, everyone knew how much Brittany adored animals, cats especially. At one time during high school, Brittany had taken to feeding the neighbourhood cats sardines and other treats she kept on her person at all times. After so many feedings, the cats would follow her home, where she would let them into her room, play with them, give them weird names, and then they'd leave before her parents noticed the mob of cats hanging around. But one day they decided to stay put. Which was just fine with Brittany, but not for the cats' owners, who put up so many desperate fliers looking for their lost cats that Brittany got guilty and called them to come pick up their pets up. It was a good thing too because it was _impossible_ for Santana to make out with Brittany with 6 to 12 furry little cock-blocks around, mewing annoyingly and bating at her cheerios skirt.

Santana understood that she and Lord Tubbington filled Brittany's different needs. Santana supplied her with love and sweet lady kisses, whereas Lord Tubbington was fluffy (about his only redeeming quality since he didn't seem to supply Brittany with much more than 'surprises' on the carpet and expensive vet bills). But she thought that when she became pregnant with Brittany's child things would change. That Lord Tubbs would take a backseat for a while because Santana was the one making a freaking baby. But no, it seemed as though Brittany was trying to keep up with both her needs as a pregnant woman and Lord Tubbington's needs as a senile, overweight, diabetic, incontinent, furry leech. Sometimes they both needed something at the same time, and that's when Brittany felt most conflicted.

Brittany was still doing what she called her "confidence exercises", wherein she attempted to raise the cat's self-esteem by showering him with compliments. Completely wasted on that cat because he already walked around like he was the shit. Those compliments would have been much better spent on Santana, after all she was the one that was going to be the size of a whale soon. And her vagina would be as cavernous as Hermione Granger's bottomless handbag. Next thing you know people would be throwing essence of dittany, invisibility cloaks, and portraits of dead wizards in there.

Damn, she needed to stop letting Brittany read the Harry Potter books to the baby at night. They always got her emotional.

She dabbed the corner of her eyes with a Kleenex and sniffed loudly. Brittany looked up from the cat with a horror-stricken look. She dropped her arms down quickly and then yelped as Lord Tubbington dug his nails into her to prevent his fall. She scooped him back up and looked back and forth between Santana and the cat.

"Ow! Sorry, Lord Tubbington! Oh but wait –Santana baby don't cry. I'm just gonna –the cat you know, he could die without the shot. But I know you need the breadsticks! So I'm going to do this, then that, real quick! Promise! Be back soon. Love you!" Suddenly rushed by Santana's emotional display, Brittany sprang into action, dashing out of the room.

Santana smiled through tears. If there was one thing she was sure of at the moment, it was that Brittany was trying her best. She went back to the bed and lay down on it, daydreaming of her beloved breadsticks, soon to be delivered by her beloved Brittany. It was the perfect scenario.

CLANG!

Santana cracked one eye open.

THUMP!

She opened the other.

An unholy hiss, giving way to a yowl resounded throughout the house.

"But Lord Tubbington, we do this shot every day! You know it has to happen by now!"

More hissing.

"No, you can't have any sardines. Your vet said that I had to take care of your diet or else you will get sicker, don't you understand?"

It now sounded as though the shelving of the kitchen was being torn away from the wall.

"Okay, okay! Here you go. Now just relaaaax and this won't hurt a bit."

Santana winced when yet another gurgling yowl of complaint was let out.

"There, that wasn't bad, was it?"

She sat up in bed, listening intently. Hopefully that was the end of trouble. Things went quiet for a bit there and Santana was almost convinced that Brittany was out to get her delicious yogurt and breadsticks.

But then she heard the steady thump of someone running up the stairs. Brittany appeared, looking like she had just fought in a war. Wounds (well, scratch marks) and everything.

"Santana?"

She was biting her lip nervously.

"Yes, Brittany?"

"So Tubbykins just had an accident on the floor. I'm just going to clean it up quick and then I'll go to the store," She nodded, reassuringly.

Santana shook her head and got up from the bed.

"You know what, it's my craving, I should just go get it myself. You seem to have your hands full," Santana was truly not trying to be passive aggressive (really, nothing about her was passive, especially in bed), since she really was starting to feel bad for her wife, but Brittany didn't take her at her word.

"No, Santana. I promised I would get you that… _delicious_ snack and I'm going to do it. Just give me a little more time. Sit, relax, don't worry I'll make everything up to you tonight. With my mouth."

Well she was definitely going to have to sit down now because that promise was making her legs weak. _Damn hormones. _

Seeing that she was staying put for the time being, Brittany hurried out of the room. Santana sighed, but then the blonde popped her head back into the room for a minute.

"Like sex and stuff," she added, in case Santana hadn't already gathered as much.

Santana rolled her eyes, and off the girl went. Approximately one episode of Sweet Valley High later she heard the front door open.

_Breadsticks, _her heart whispered softly.

Her stix and strawberry yogurt were in the house!

She nearly tripped down the stairs to get to the fix for her cravings. And there it was, a brown take out bag clutched in a smiling Brittany's hands.

"I've never been more attracted to you than I am right now," Santana told her, voice oozing lust.

All it took was Brittany flushing pleasantly for Santana to launch herself at the blonde, wrapping her legs around her torso. The taller woman squeaked and drew her free arm around her wife while making sure not to drop the ever-so-precious bag. The next thing she knew, her neck and jawline were being ravaged by full lips and a hot tongue.

"Britt baby you make me so hot, doing all these things for me, even though I'm acting kind of crazy right now."

Brittany thought it would be wise not to respond to that, so she just let out a moan as her wife's tongue flicked across her pulse point.

"I swear I have the hottest, most considerate wife in the world. You're gonna get it, Britt. I'm going to make you come so hard, you won't be able to see straight," Santana's lips were still close to her neck and as she spoke, the words whispered across her skin.

A tremor of desire went through her and she gasped lightly.

"Right after these breadsticks, that is."

Santana unceremoniously dropped down and grabbed the bag out of a frozen Brittany's hand. Humming a tune, she ran off to the kitchen. The blonde blinked, confused.

_What just happened?_

She shook her arousal off and went to the kitchen as well. Santana was standing in front of the counter, with her back towards her, unmoving. The breadsticks must have made her go into shock, like that one time Brittany stuck her tongue on a nine-volt battery, except this time there were breadsticks involved.

"So, is it as good as that time you told me we were going to the dentist but instead you brought me for ice cream sundaes?" She laughed, wrapping an arm around the brunette's waist.

"You… must hate me," Santana's voice shook.

Brittany's arm leapt away from the girl, as though burned. Did she do something? Was there something wrong with what she had said?

"What? Santana, you know I love you!"

"Well sometimes I really wonder, Brittany," Santana muttered, harshly.

Worried, Brittany scrambled to the other side of the counter so she could look her wife in the eye. Tears were streaming down her face, but she wouldn't meet eyes with the blonde. She just stared at the breadsticks and yogurt like they were breaking her heart into a million pieces.

"What is it?"

Suddenly, their eyes connected and Brittany had to stop herself from taking a step backwards from that intense, emotional gaze.

"You _know_, Brittany. You know I don't eat yogurt unless there's fruit in the bottom of the cup. And _this_ yogurt? Doesn't have that, it doesn't have _any_ fruit in it. At all. It's just fake strawberry flavoured crap. Is that what you want me to feed our child?"

Brittany couldn't seem to close her gaping mouth. She knew Santana was going to get hormonal, but this seemed… excessive. Santana rubbed her tear-stained cheeks roughly, smearing mascara across her face.

"You were probably just distracted. Too busy thinking about your stupid cat to notice that you were picking up poison. If I eat that our child is going to be born with extra genitals and no one will ever want to sleep with them. And do you think Lord Lardass is going to care?" She ranted, gesturing wildly.

"Don't talk about him that way, he's never done anything to you," Brittany didn't want to fuel the fire, but she had to stand up for Lord Tubbs, since he was a cat and couldn't do it himself.

The brunette let out a mocking laugh at that.

"Oh yeah, he's never done anything to me. Except for the fact that you choose him over me all the time. You give him massages because he has arthritis. You lift him onto the counter so he can get to his food because he doesn't have the strength to jump a few feet up. When's the last time you lifted me onto the counter for a non-sex related reason? It's like you don't even care!"

Brittany felt like she was trapped on a runaway train and all she could seem to do was feed the engine so that the crash would be that much worse.

"You're not being fair, Santana."

"You're being insensitive to my needs! Is it that much to ask to be chosen over a damn cat? And by the way, without the right yogurt these-" she held up the open take out box of breadsticks, "-aren't even good enough for Lord Tubbington to eat," She dramatically flung the box to the ground.

As if on cue, said cat scrambled in, dragging his paunch along the floor. Then he reached the breadsticks and started going to town on them.

"NO!" Santana screeched in reaction, flinging herself onto the ground and attempting to save the breadsticks.

She clung to those she had managed to wrestle away, letting the cat have his one stick. She fixed him with a glare and took a large bite of breadstick. Brittany winced. She didn't know about artificially flavoured yogurts, but eating a breadstick right off of the floor? Probably not the best for the baby. Or for Santana, for that matter. Shaking her head at the whole stupid situation, she exited the room.

They didn't talk for the rest of the day. Only when it came time for bed did they breach the silence.

"Santana, we're not supposed to go to bed angry with each other. Or else we'll be arguing in our dreams. Except something will be weird, like we're at the circus, or I'm wearing firefighter clothes."

Santana finally looked up from the book she had been pretending to read while Brittany put on her sleepwear. Her wife's eyes were pleading and sincere enough to break her down.

"I'm sorry Britt-Britt. It's just… I have all these feelings all the time now. I'm crying a lot more than usual. Today I really felt like you didn't love me as much as you love your cat and it hurt. Even though now I know that you obviously love me better, considering you married me and all, in the moment I felt really alone and unloved. Do you get what I'm saying?"

The blonde smiled lovingly and nodded. She scooted closer on the bed and embraced her beautiful, emotionally unstable wife.

"Yes, I get it. I'm going to do my best to make you understand how much I love you and care for you when you're feeling unloved. Because you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Santana," She rubbed soothing circles on her back.

Santana shivered heavily and drew away from the hug. A familiar look was in her eyes.

"Okay, _now_ I've never been more attracted to you."

And they went back to where they left off in the hallway. Santana had been right. Brittany really _couldn't_ see straight afterwards, but that could have been because she was so tired.

For such a great night, the next day didn't start off too well for Santana.

"Hello there Tubbypants! Are you a special boy? Yes you are, you're so special."

She cracked a bleary eye to see Brittany fawning over that miserable cat. The blonde shot her a grin.

"Oh good, you're awake. I just realised that I never introduced them. Come on, kitty. Let's go see your other mommy," She picked the cat up and dropped him closer to the brunette.

"I'm _not_ his mommy. More like evil stepmother…" She muttered the last part, she really didn't want to get into another fight already.

Ignoring the comment, Brittany took Lord Tubbington's paw and placed it on Santana's still-flat stomach.

"Say hi to your new brother or sister!" She said enthusiastically.

_Jesus Christ, are you kidding me?_

Santana groaned and rolled out of bed. This was going to be a _long_ day.

And it was, because at every turn she was faced with Brittubbington. She decided that they deserved a portmanteau after the disgusting displays of their love she was being faced with every hour on the hour. If Brittany wasn't spoon-feeding him cat food, she was laughing at his jokes, or asking him what they should name their child. She had to remind Brittany that "Meow" and "Purr" were not by any means valid name options.

"I know _that_. But we have to include him in our plans or else he'll feel left out when the baby comes," the blonde explained.

Santana was _trying_, really trying not to get jealous. But it was really hard when her wife was lavishing a dumb cat with all this attention while Santana was feeling kind of sick and queasy, almost as if-

"I'm going to throw up," She stated plainly, before hurrying out of the room, hand clasped over her mouth.

Brittany got up from the couch and rushed towards the bathroom, where she was already hearing heaving. But right as she reached the door, she heard something else. She spun her head around and saw Lord Tubbington, shaking and making gaging sounds. Oh God, he looked like he was dying. She took a step towards him.

"Brittany..." Santana sobbed from the bathroom, before choking up more contents of her stomach.

"Oh no," The blonde turned back to the bathroom, reaching for the door handle.

Right at that moment, Lord Tubbington spewed a lake of sick all over the carpet and continued retching. Brittany flew to him and started petting him soothingly.

"It's going to be okay, you're not going to die. Don't worry," she murmured.

"What are you doing?" echoed from the bathroom.

She heard the toilet flush and then she was faced with a furious Santana. Tears were streaking down her face and she looked positively ill. Brittany was suddenly wracked with guilt. She stood up straight and stepped forward, too late it seems.

"Don't, don't even. You can think I'm paranoid and emotional all you want, but that right there is a fact. You chose your cat over me. I was in agony and you chose to hold his fur back instead of my hair," Santana sobbed.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know what to do! It won't happen again."

"Of course it won't happen again, because I won't let it. You betrayed me. It's okay, I'll be a single mom. You can see our child on the weekends. Or not at all if you want to just spend your days with Lord Tubbington instead. Go ahead, you're a free woman from now on!"

She stomped upstairs, ignoring Brittany's pleas, locking herself in their bedroom. The blonde sighed and went to go get paper towels and carpet cleaner. She could guess where she was sleeping tonight.

After numerous "I'm sorrys", "I love yous", and "Please forgive mes", Santana was still not over 'the incident', as they had taken to calling it. So that was why Brittany was currently sleeping on the couch. Santana could not and would not forgive her.

After more thought on the situation, she decided that breaking up their marriage was a slight overreaction on her part, but that didn't mean she had to let go of the situation completely. Because she was absolutely justified in being upset with Britt.

At least that's what she told herself while lying in bed. Feeling restless on her back, she flipped over onto her stomach and discovered that Brittany's side of the bed was disturbingly cold. She decided to lie down diagonally in the bed, as she couldn't bear the thought of either side getting completely cold like that.

Why was their bed so damn big? She never noticed before, but really it was gigantic. It was beyond disconcerting.

Maybe it was big enough that there would be enough space between her and Brittany. And really, it wasn't completely fair to have her sleep on that uncomfortable couch.

Good thing she warmed up Brittany's side for her.

Before she knew it, she was slipping downstairs and towards the living room. The light from the fireplace was flickering warmly, and it cast shadows onto the floor from the blonde head poking up from the top of the couch. But just as Santana was about to open her mouth, she heard her wife's soft voice and it stopped whatever she had been going to say.

"Lord Tubbington, I know you don't like it, but this is how things have to be."

She came a little closer and saw that Brittany was reclining on the couch with the cat on her stomach. The blonde was petting him, eliciting nothing more than a controlled rumble.

"I love you, but I need to take care of your other mommy right now. She's doing this amazing thing and she needs a lot of attention."

Santana quietly moved behind the threshold, afraid of being spotted spying on this tender moment.

"Of course I know that you need a lot of attention too. But don't worry, I'm going to find you someone to take care of all your needs. And it doesn't have to be permanent. After the baby comes we can be a happy family again, okay?"

Santana's heart totally didn't just swell at that. Because she wasn't such a sap. She _didn't_ tear up once again and then barge into the room to throw her arms about Brittany. Because that would just be pathetic, right? Right.

It took some thought, but they found the best person to take Lord Tubbington (Actually, the thought was all on Brittany's part, since Santana was an advocate of 'whoever's stupid enough to take him'.) And she arrived a couple days later to come pick him up.

"Hi Rachel!" Brittany greeted her.

The diva put on her show smile and scurried into the house, carrying a monstrous, deluxe cat carrier. Santana rigidly held out the cat to her, arms shaking from his heft.

"Take him," she commanded.

"Santana!" Brittany scolded.

Luckily Rachel just squeaked in happiness (?) and took the cat in her arms. She nuzzled him and looked deep into his terrified eyes.

"We're going to have so much fun together! I've planned a rigorous diabetes-friendly diet for you. I've also signed you up for cat yoga! And the rest of the time you can enjoy my musical stylings!

Santana almost felt bad for Lord Tubbington. But not really because she hated him, basically. Brittany was grinning because she was convinced that the cat loved it when she played "My Headband" on repeat. Rachel was under strict instructions as to his musical tastes, which, of course, she was more than happy to accommodate.

"Thank you so much, Brittany. I have always felt this gaping hole in my life and I never knew what to fill it with until now."

Would it ruin the moment completely if Santana said "a dildo"? Because Berry was practically asking for it.

"We can come visit him, right Rachel?" Brittany sounded a little worried so Santana wrapped a comforting arm around her.

"Of course you can! You can come next week if you want."

Reassured by that, Brittany said her goodbyes and Rachel went off with her hissing deluxe cat carrier. The diva could have sworn she heard a hissed "Yesssss" just before the door closed, but that was probably just her imagination playing tricks on her.

Rachel kind of assumed that at some point the hissing would stop. But it didn't, really. Sometimes Lord Tubbington took a break, but he'd always go back to it. Even when she let him out of his carrier, he still hissed, yowled, and croaked (were cats supposed to do that?) This was not the loyal companion she had signed up for.

She would have gone to a different room to escape him (and let him cool off a bit too), but he followed her, hissing, the fur on his back raised. Soon it was time for his dinner and Rachel shuddered at the thought of having to set his food down near him, leaving her vulnerable for attack. She prepared his new and improved diabetes-friendly food in the dish she had bedazzled when she first found out that she would soon be the proud owner of Lord Tubbington. She was glad that she opted for the diabetes-friendly food and not the vegan cat food she had been leaning towards at first. This way maybe the maiming won't be as bad. When she faced the cat once more, it seemed that he was angry as ever.

"Lord Tubbington, look over there!"

It was a cheap move, but it worked. She was able to set the food down on the floor and keep all of her fingers. The cat approached the food source enthusiastically, but when he sniffed it he changed his mind about eating it. He walked out of the kitchen and Rachel's face dropped. She had spent so many hours researching what the best food for his health would be, as well as trying to get a formula that is tasty. So much for that.

Just as she was about to give up, a furry face peeked back into the kitchen. He crept back to his bowl and unceremoniously dunked his head into it. A sound not unlike a lawnmower running filled the room. It seemed as though Lord Tubbington wasn't too picky if he was hungry. Soon enough he was done and, to Rachel's great surprise, he _didn't_ immediately start hissing again. Instead, he came closer to her and half-heartedly rubbed his face on her calf. She felt her mouth tug up into a fond smile at the gesture.

Suddenly Rachel realised something. She bent down and picked Lord Tubbington up. He let out the meekest of complaints but otherwise seemed fine with it.

"I just realised something. Your survival is completely dependent on me. If I don't feed you or inject you with insulin, you'll _die_," she stated grimly.

Lord Tubbington just blinked in response.

"So if I'm taking care of you and preventing your death, no matter how much you hate me right now, you'll be forced to love me. I can sing and talk as much as I want, and you'll still love me instead of saying 'You're a loud-mouth Berry' or 'Man Hands, turn it down a notch.' I don't know why I never thought of it before!"

She twirled on the spot in delight, clutching a now terrified Lord Tubbington to her chest. After a bit she grew tired and dizzy, so she settled herself down on the couch, ignoring the stabbing pain of claws embedded into her flesh (she was an actress, after all, if there was one thing she's learned, it's how to endure pain). She pet the cat tenderly and he eventually relaxed enough to purr a little. She sighed contentedly.

"This is… kind of nice. I feel so safe and loved."

Soon, but not soon enough for Brittany, it was time to go visit Lord Tubbington (and Rachel too, she supposed). She was so very excited. Santana grumbled a bit about it, but Brittany felt that deep down she was excited to see him too. But Santana liked to pretend she didn't have feelings, so she took the long way over to Rachel's apartment and only stopped the looping detours when Brittany threatened to withhold sex (for only one night. After all, she had _needs._)

"I'll never forgive myself for knowing where Berry lives," she complained on the walk up.

"Shush, she's your friend," Brittany chastised her.

"Oh yeah? Then why don't I ever phone her? Or invite her over? Or call her Rachel? Or- "

Before they even got to Rachel's door it was violently thrown open.

"Hello friends!" the diva practically screamed in excitement.

Brittany threw Santana a triumphant look that said "See? You're friends." Santana rolled her eyes and did something that went against every survival instinct in her body –she went into Rachel's apartment. Shuddering at the feeling that enveloped her upon crossing the threshold into the troll's lair (whether said feeling was real or imagined), she stopped her show of revulsion long enough to take a good look around the place. And a good smell too.

"Dear _God_."

There were no less than six cats in the living room, napping, eating, meowing, and doing who knows what else. There were three food dishes, two dozen cat toys, and two litter boxes strewn around the room.

"Rachel, I really, really like cats, but honestly? No one should like cats this much," Brittany's voice was dipped in pity.

Rachel ignored the comment, intent upon remaining delusional and enthusiastic it seemed.

"You two are just in time! We were just sitting down to tea. Haha I mean _I_ was sitting down to tea. Sometimes I forget that they're cats, you know? They have such personalities."

When Rachel went into the kitchen to get the tea, Brittany turned to her wife.

"Is that what having too many cats does to people?" She whispered, apprehensive.

"No, that's what Berry does to herself, but the cats can't help matters. We got off easy with just a baby on the way."

Brittany could have said something about how treating a pregnant Santana as though she was a bomb ready to blow at any second was no picnic but saying that could very well have set off the bomb. And things were going so well now that there was no jealousy over Lord Tubbington.

Oh _right_. Lord Tubbington.

She scanned the room quickly, and found his slightly slimmer frame hiding under the coffee table. Elated, the blonde scooped him up and cuddled him close. Rachel came out with a tray of cups, saucers, teapot, and assorted vegan finger foods.

"Oh you've found him, have you? He's so sociable I'm surprised you were able to pry him away from playing with the other cats. He's just the life of the party! He's been so active, playfully running away from us all, that he's lost a bit of weight. Dr. Sorenson, our vet, says it's helping with the diabetes."

Santana was almost certain that Lord Tubbington's eyes were pleading for freedom from this madhouse. She couldn't do that because she really did not miss having cat hair on every single item of clothing of hers, in the air, in her morning cereal even. But it was with compassion in her heart that later in the week she casually mentioned to a few former Glee members that Rachel was in serious need of a cat intervention –a cattervention. It did the job, though those cats had to literally be pried from Rachel's hands. They left her Lord Tubbington so that she didn't go into complete withdrawal. And then, in another fit of benevolence, Santana signed her up for bisexual speed dating because that way Berry could find _someone_ that was attracted to her odd combination of man hands and lady parts. And Santana figured that anyone that collected that many cats needed to get out there (and have the chance to get a different kind pussy).

* * *

><p>"All right daters, your five minutes are up! Time to switch partners!"<p>

Rachel sighed in relief. This Paul fellow she was paired up with was such a bore. He was so _not_ a cat person. It was disappointing because he had an attractive face when the light caught it just right. And when she squinted. The cosmo she was holding in her hand probably helped as well.

"Well as much as I would love to hear more about your plans to build the Sistine Chapel of bird houses, I really must go."

Paul sent her a bland sort of smile.

"I just want you to know right now that I'd like to get to know you better, Rachel. You seem really down-to-earth."

Rachel was already moving away, checking the "not interested in" box next to Paul's name in the pamphlet provided to her at the start of the speed dating session.

"Oh yeah totally, me too," she said distractedly.

She sat down in her new spot heavily. Across from Quinn Fabray.

They sat in shocked silence for about one minute of their five allotted minutes.

"Well this is awkward," Rachel stated obviously.

"Yep."

Quinn swirled the straw in her mojito and raised her eyebrow at Rachel, as though telling the girl that it was her move.

"Do you like cats?"


	3. A Taste of her Own Medicine

Sorry it's been so long. Lots of stuff happened at the end of August and sex is really hard to write, it turns out. Thank you for all your lovely reviews, I'm overwhelmed by the response to this story.

So just a warning here, I have changed the rating for this chapter because there is some sex in it. Everyone still here? Okay, let's get to it.

* * *

><p>Part Three –A Taste of her Own Medicine<p>

"Hi everyone, this is Brittany S. Pierce and you're watching Fondue for Three. If you've missed a bunch of my videos, this show was previously called Fondue for Two, but now that my lovely wife has a bun in the oven I decided to rename it. I wanted to name it fondue two and a half men but Santana said there would be copyright issues and plus we are women."

"Now this week I have a special treat for you. My guest for the last twelve consecutive weeks, I give you my wife Santana Pierce!"

The camera panned to a very disgruntled looking Santana. She was leaning back heavily into the couch and cradling her prominent baby bump. Off-camera, Brittany cleared her throat. Santana only scowled further.

"Santana, wave to the camera," she commanded in the nicest way possible.

She raised her right hand up weakly and twitched it slightly before dropping it back onto her stomach. Apparently that was all the blonde was going to get. Undeterred by this unenthusiastic greeting, Brittany moved back on screen, brimming with positivity.

"So now we are 6 months along in our pregnancy-"

"Yeah, you can say 'we' but I'm the one who looks like I have a beach ball taped to my stomach," the brunette muttered.

"-And _we_ are very excited. We caved and decided to have the doctor tell us the sex of the baby. And it's a boy!"

"I thought that the last time I'd have a tiny penis inside me would be when I was fooling around with Puck in high school, but I guess not."

Brittany turned a brilliant smile towards her wife.

"That was funny! See, you like being on this show," she insisted.

"Not really. I just like making fun of Puck right now because he can't defend himself since he's trying to get on my good side. Like that's going to get me to agree to trust him with my kid," Santana shook her head disbelievingly.

"Godfather my ass. By the time the kid's two he's going to be way more responsible than that guy will ever be."

"You like Puck a lot, quit being such a lizard," Brittany chided softly before continuing. "Anyway, so this week we have a cheese fondue, Santana's favourite-"

"It's not my favourite," The girl interrupted, looking disdainfully at the pot of melted cheese.

"Yes it is."

The blonde brows knit in her confusion. Why would Santana deny her love for fondue? Unless she didn't want to make breadsticks jealous or something. But what was that thing that Rachel was always telling Santana and Quinn? "Food items are not sentient (or sentiment maybe?) beings." Though lately she had been following that up with "Not like cats," and then she'd start cooing over Lord Tubbington.

"No, it really isn't," Santana gritted.

As if to emphasise this fact the brunette scooted away from the pot, like she was at risk of contamination.

"Last time I made it I hardly got to eat any because you and Lord Tubbington scarfed it down so fast!"

Sometimes when Santana was out with Puck Brittany made fondue just for herself. It was lonely but god did she ever get her cheese fix. Oh shit. Santana was looking scary.

"I'M NOT EATING ANY OF THAT CHEESE! I didn't even want to be here. You just want to show the whole world how fat I'm getting!"

Taken aback, Brittany tried to lay a soothing hand on her shoulder.

"Honey, you're not fat, you're pregnant. It's natural and beautiful. All my viewers know that."

Santana gave her the dirtiest look ever. And not the good "we're going to scissor later" dirty, but the "why would you say that, I'm going to cry or scream or throw this bookshelf to the ground now" kind of dirty.

"Ohhhh yes. Your viewers understand that I'm pregnant all right. Don't think I don't know about you little fangirls that are after my woman," she was speaking directly to the camera now with a vicious look on her face.

"You all just want me to get really fat so that Brittany will leave me and be with _you_. Well let me tell you that that's _not_ going to happen. And as if writing 'Brittany I love you, be with me instead of that cow lol, smiley face' is going to do the trick you sad, pathetic home wreckers. Just you wait, I'm got a crack team working on tracking down each and every one of you so that I can lay down the law, Lima Heights style. Especially you, naomilyislyf2006 because-"

The screen shook a bit as the camera was wrestled from Santana's hands. The blonde's apologetic face was on screen again.

"She doesn't mean it! She doesn't have a team, she's too mean to people that are good with computers for that. I'm very sorry guys, but I'm going to have to end the show at that today. Next time we will be talking about whether the blonde hair I found on Rachel Berry's shirt was from a hot new girl or just a long-haired cat she got after relapsing into her cat addiction."

The screen went black.

Brittany sighed and put down the camera. She went to turn to her wife.

"Santana, what was that?"

But the girl was too busy shovelling cheese covered bread into her mouth to answer her.

"Baby?"

The brunette paused, cheese smeared across her face.

"Don't look at me when I'm eating!" she snapped.

Brittany immediately averted her eyes. This was a game she had often played during the last six months. It was called "Stop your pregnant wife's emotional meltdown". She really needed to look up some cheats online because she hasn't won the game yet.

"It's okay, I'm not looking. You can go back to eating."

She figured that would get her past a level, but when instead of frenzied mastication she heard a broken sob, she knew that she had lost a life. She turned back to the girl, concerned.

"You think I'm ugly!" her wife wailed in despair.

Oh no. Not the dreaded you-think-I'm-ugly/fat/unattractive-in-some-way (when in reality Brittany loved her so much she couldn't stand it) card.

"No, you're beautiful. I love you so much!"

Brittany moved to wrap her arms around Santana's shoulders, but it had no effect. The girl was still weeping with her head in her hands.

"The baby wants this, he's giving me cravings so that I'll get fat and you'll leaaaave me and he gets extra p-presents at Christmas. I mean, whuh-why wouldn't he? That's why I tried to get my parents to divorce for so many years."

Brittany's had her moments, but she wasn't the best at convincing people of things with her words. After all, she didn't have Rachel Berry's vocabulary. But she had to try.

"Santana, I love you. You're beautiful and smart and sexy and I don't want anyone else in the world."

"I don't believe you," Santana sniffed.

And when words failed her, actions always more than made up for things.

"No, I do. I'll prove it," Brittany voice had taken on a husky tone as she moved closer to her wife.

Taking a napkin from the pile on the table, she began the formidable task of cleaning the tears and cheese off of her wife's face. Santana's flow of tears stopped as she took in Brittany's determined look. This could have just been the hormones talking, but the way that Brittany was wiping her face was almost like being softly caressed. It was _sensual_. Her breath caught when the blonde took the napkin away and drew closer. Brittany pressed their lips together urgently. She was all passion, all intensity, it left no doubt as to her sincerity. When her bottom lip caught between Brittany's teeth she shivered in utter want.

Brittany was very convincing when she wanted to be.

* * *

><p>The blonde panted softly, trying to regain her breath from the frenzied activities she had just been engaged in. She wiped the remnant of wetness from her lips in one smooth action that surely would have made Santana shiver if the girl wasn't recovering from a couple of amazing orgasms. Orgasms that she loved giving just a little bit more than receiving. Because when Santana was writhing underneath her and she was able to elicit moans, little gasps, and hips bucking –all from a well-aimed stroke of her tongue –well, she felt a sense of accomplishment that she usually only felt while dancing.<p>

Not to say she wasn't getting anxious to be receiving because good god she was so wet right now. And why were Santana's eyes closed? She should have been looking at Brittany as though she wanted to eat her… and then done so. Feeling impatient, the blonde nudged her wife softly, drawing only a contented sigh from the brunette. She nudged a little harder and Santana's eyes popped open. She half sat up and looked at Brittany blearily.

"Whuh? Oh sorry Britt-Britt, must have nodded off there. The baby's been keeping me up all night."

That was kind of funny, because Brittany had a similar experience of being kept up all last night –by Santana's snoring. But she wasn't going to push it, if Santana was feeling too tired to reciprocate then the blonde was sure that the next time she would be getting the ravaging of her life.

With that thought to comfort her (though it didn't by any means ease the throbbing between her legs), she leaned up and kissed her wife softly on the forehead.

"It's okay, you're tired. Go to sleep honey."

With a smile of gratitude, Santana moved onto her side. Brittany pressed herself up against the girl's back and slung an arm loosely over her stomach. Sometimes when she was trying to sleep she could feel the baby kick. It kind of made the whole not getting much sleep thing alright. With all the kicking he did he was totally going to be a soccer star… or a cancan dancer, either way she'd be there with a video camera and orange slices.

She squirmed slightly. The intense arousal was still there. She was remembering all of Santana's little moans and gasps and _god_ it was not helping matters.

Santana let out a loud snore.

Maybe she could just go into the bathroom for a little while and then just… but no, no. She needed to get some sleep and then tomorrow they would have another chance. She closed her eyes (and her thighs) tight and tried to ignore the deep rumble that seemed to fill the room.

* * *

><p>Brittany was <em>horny<em>.

Really, really horny.

And tired.

And horny.

But mostly tired.

Santana, however, was chipper and sated sexually as ever before. You see, even though she was constantly horny it seemed, Brittany was very accommodating to her needs.

Which was fine.

Brittany loved going down on Santana or fucking her senseless, or making sweet lady love to her.

But she had needs too.

And these days she wasn't getting much relief.

After that one night of sexual frustration she had been hoping for a night (or day, she wasn't picky) of passion to make up for it, but all in vain. Because every time they got down to it, it seemed like the only one satisfied in the end was Santana. She had become a master of excuses. One night she would complain that she couldn't get Brittany off because her fingers hurt from changing the channel on the TV too much (even though she usually just ended up watching dvds of Sister, Sister or Full House anyway). Another night she just pretended to fall asleep (as if Brittany couldn't tell if she was faking by now). Yet another night after Santana had her mind blown from an amazing orgasm, the blonde decided she just needed to say what she needed, and be specific.

"Alright babe, I want you to put your hands on me, all over my body, and then slowly bring one down to my-"

She had been shushed by the other woman, who looked at her disapprovingly.

"The baby can _hear_ you, you know."

Brittany watched in disbelief as Santana turned onto her side with a huff.

Finally the blonde had had enough. She was ready to confront her wife about their situation.

"Santana-" She started.

"Britt, honey, I'm sorry about yesterday. That wasn't very fair of me," the brunette admitted earnestly.

"It wasn't," Brittany said, a bit tentatively as she was still wary of setting her wife off.

"I know I've been difficult lately. But I'm going to make up for all that tomorrow when you get back from work."

"You are?" she inquired, pleasantly surprised with how the situation got resolved so effortlessly.

"Get ready because I'm going to rock your world," Santana told her with a sly wink.

Safe to say, Brittany was sufficiently distracted at her dance school the next day, which was bad because recitals were coming up and she had a group of eight year olds that kept knocking each other over with their Finn-like dancing. So when she returned home she was both exhausted and incredibly eager.

Somehow she had managed to convince herself that as soon as she opened the front door Santana would immediately throw herself at her wife and proceed to make sweet love to her in the open doorway, for all the neighbours to see. It wouldn't do for Mrs Branton from across the street to have a stroke when she goes out to water her plants, so Brittany would have to convince her to continue in the house (Santana, that is, not Mrs Branton). When she got to the front door she took in a deep breath, held her bag loosely, ready to cast away easily in favour of wrapping her hands around a shapely ass instead, and opened the door.

She was not immediately bowled over by an enthusiastic wife. In fact, there were no signs of Santana at all.

"Hello?" she tried.

Nothing.

She took off her shoes and threw her bag in the corner of the hallway. Santana _hated_ when she left her work stuff lying around but she couldn't bring herself to care. The important thing here was that her body was expecting to be ravaged and here she was, standing forlornly in an empty house with no signs of life.

She felt the exhaustion of the day fall upon her heavily. She yawned and then stretched her tired muscles out, hearing her joints pop in a satisfying way. Maybe Santana was out with Quinn or something and Brittany would have to wait until she got home for her world to be rocked. Or maybe Santana just forgot or something.

Brittany really hoped that she hadn't forgotten but considering how withholding she had been with her wife lately, she wouldn't be entirely surprised. Taking a quick look into the fridge and not feeling her appetite stir in the least, she trudged up to their room. Maybe she could take a quick nap before Santana came home and maybe escape this negative mood she seemed to be in. Going up the stairs, she heard a trickle of some unidentifiable Enya song coming from their bedroom.

Strange. Maybe Santana accidentally left her itunes on.

And now she was seeing that their bedroom door was closed. Maybe she had been wrong about Santana leaving? She was probably taking a nap herself.

Brittany pushed the door open cautiously.

Or maybe Santana was naked, sprawled upon their bed that happened to be sprinkled in rose petals and was giving her a come hither look. There was that possibility too.

The room was dim, the only light coming from the numerous candles that Santana had placed around the room. They washed her in a warm, completely flattering light that left Brittany's jaw hanging. Suddenly she wasn't feeling tired. Not tired at all. She _was_ feeling the sudden dull throb between her legs. And she wanted Santana to feel it too, preferably with her mouth.

She swallowed a whimper back and then licked her lips subconsciously. Santana was riveted on the smooth swipe of her tongue. She shivered before narrowing her eyes slightly.

"What are you waiting for? Come here," she ordered.

It seemed like Brittany's body obeyed Santana without her own permission. Not that she was going to say no when her underwear were this drenched, but still. Santana using her mind control powers (or maybe the imperius spell? Would she risk Azkaban?) wasn't exactly fair.

And look, now all of her clothes were on the ground without her even realising it. Magic was a wonderful thing.

Oh wait, she still had her underwear on. Brittany must have still had _some_ control. But now Santana was looking at her predatorily and she was thinking that control was overrated. Santana, sitting on the edge of the bed, placed one hand around each of her wife's hipbones and pulled her closer. Warm breath buffeted over Brittany's stomach as Santana took her in, from head to toe. She wished that her legs would stop trembling like that. She was too good at sex to be looking like an eager virgin.

But oh god Santana's mouth was so close to her…

The sound of ripping filled the room as Santana unceremoniously tore her panties off.

"Santana!"

How could she! Brittany really liked those because they were really… they were really… Well now that her wife was placing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her stomach she couldn't really think of what they were.

A gasp caught in her throat as the kisses were followed by Santana tracing her abs with an eager tongue. She hadn't had much more than a half-hearted grope in over a month so having Santana move her mouth over her body as though she wanted to memorize every inch of her turned her on like nothing other.

Hands wandered upwards and two soft palms smoothed down her sides, running down her waist, hips, and thighs. She shivered as every gentle touch seemed to just stoke the fire of her want more and more. The brunette hands were now inching up the back of Brittany's thighs, tantalisingly close to where she desperately needed them. But Santana wasn't going to give her that satisfaction quite yet. The hands pulled away abruptly.

Brittany whimpered. Actually _whimpered_. That's how much she needed Santana to touch her, taste her, to ease the throbbing between her legs.

But now Santana was at eye level and was pulling them together, as close as they could with her stomach in the way. But god, she needed to _not_ acknowledge the existence of the baby bump or this thing would be over quicker than a marriage ceremony between a duck and a cat. And would be about as bloody. She should know, she was the minister the last time. She had really thought that Whiskers and Quackers would make their love last a lifetime, but instead it only lasted until the one with claws got hungry.

The next thing she knew, she was turned around with the back of her legs against the bed. Santana was giving her a stern look that made her want to yield completely. In fact, she felt her legs part slightly under that gaze.

"Get your head in the game, Pierce. The show's about to start," Santana growled.

And before Brittany could ask whether they were playing a game or putting on a show she was being pushed back onto the bed. Santana followed her down and draped herself over the girl, catching her in a fiery kiss that left her moaning.

Except she had noticed a problem. Santana was really, _really_ pregnant. It was like Santana's body was a hotel for their child. And the hotel kept renovating and expanding until it was too big for Santana to be on top during sex. And now Brittany was breathless not so much from being super turned on (even though she was), but from having Santana's stomach digging into hers. She should probably say something. She broke away from the kiss and made Santana focus her dazed eyes on her.

"So, how are we going to do this?"

Santana raised her eyebrow in a very Quinn-like way. Except Quinn never looked that hungry unless there was bacon nearby.

"What do you mean how are we going to do this? The way we've always done it. Unless you wanted to scissor for old times' sake?"

Santana actually thought that scissoring was an option at this point? Brittany needed to tread lightly here.

"No, babe, that's really okay. J-just do your thing," She tried to smile encouragingly.

And believe me, Santana was encouraged all right. She plopped back down on her wife and took up her lips again. Brittany stifled a moan of pain. Although now that she thought of it, she could have probably pretended it was a moan of pleasure. She felt the brunette's hands start to wander down and the baby bump shift a little higher until it was pressing down on her ribcage. Wanting to get away from the pressure, Brittany attempted to flip their positions, but her plan was foiled when Santana firmly planted a hand by either side of her head.

"Don't worry about that, Britt-Britt. Tonight's all for you," she murmured soothingly.

That would be great if Brittany wasn't in awkward pain, her arousal now completely dissipated. And now Santana was moving her hand and touching her in the way she's always loved before but right now it was hard to get much of anything out of it because –oh god Santana was noticing that something was wrong. Act natural, she told herself.

"Ohhh yes, that's the spot that I like. My clitoris, I mean. Because it's, like, pleasure central and stuff."

If Santana didn't think she was acting off before, she certainly did now.

"You know, Britt, there is such a thing as too much talking in bed. Look at Berry, no one wants to sleep with her because of it."

"Actually, I think that Qui-"

"Less talking, more moaning, okay babe?"

Brittany shut her mouth and tried to get into it. But with each deep breath she was having to take to overcome the lack of air she was experiencing, it was becoming more and more clear that an orgasm wasn't coming anytime soon. Which meant she was going to have to get creative.

A breathy moan escaped her throat as Santana started circling her clit faster. She threw her head back and her eyes fluttered closed, as though the pleasure was just too much to keep them open. She didn't need to have her eyes open to know that Santana was smirking in an arrogant way at her display.

Brittany promised herself that this was going to be the first and last time that she'd do this. Because honesty is best. Except not right this moment.

Now Santana's fingers were delving into her easily, thanks to how very turned on she had been earlier. With every thrust, Brittany rocked her hips up into her hand, letting out little sounds of pleasure. She couldn't go too over the top, but she needed this thing to hurry along so that she could go back to breathing properly. Biting her lip, she made her bucking more hurried, frantic almost and a slightly surprised Santana went to match her.

"Oh fuck, Santana. I'm gonna... I'm gonna!"

On the last cant she let her mouth drop open, dramatically. She let out a muted sigh and then she resumed her movement, though at a slower pace, as though riding out her orgasm.

Acting was easy now that she got the hang of it. She just did everything she would do normally, except this time without the pleasure. Sadly.

After a little bit Santana drew back her hand and smiled at her sweetly. And now she was kissing the blonde softly, tenderly. Brittany seemed to recall that Santana had written into their wedding vows that they would be honest with each other, especially in bed.

Guilt.

Santana rolled onto her back on the bed and let out an amazed laugh.

"Wow, Brittany. You were so eager tonight. You've never come that quickly before."

Guilt.

"I guess I really _have_ been neglecting you. I'm sorry, Britt. I was just being selfish and obviously didn't remember how amazing it feels to make love to you."

Guilt worse than that time she had a tea party with Charity but didn't invite Lord Tubbington because he had bad gas.

"It's okay, that was amazing enough to make up for everything. I… just love you so much," Brittany said.

And then Santana smiled, wrapped her arms around her wife and went to sleep. Brittany felt terrible. The thought that she had never lied to Santana in this way before struck her quite suddenly and wracked her with guilt. She only fell asleep hours later.

* * *

><p>And so it was out of a guilty conscience that she acquiesced to each and every of her wife's sexual demands over the following three weeks, no matter the amount, the time of day, or whether they were baking an apple pie at the time (spoiler alert –it burnt).<p>

It seemed as though every time Santana was feeling insecure about the body changes that her pregnancy was producing she suddenly became interested in sex. And then the next thing she knew Santana would be crying out loud while Brittany was eating her out. It happened more times than she could count, and the actions were always the same. "These pants don't fit me anymore" –go down on Santana. "I think my stomach could eclipse the sun" –go down on Santana. "I just saw myself in the mirror. And I was naked" –go down on Santana.

Santana was using her as a crutch and Brittany was enabling it. And it was all because she was feeling guilty about deceiving her.

She also wanted to distract Santana from trying to top her again because that was a no-win situation for her. If she asked Santana to be on the bottom then Santana would freak out about her weight and find out she faked an orgasm and everything, and if not then Brittany would have to fake another orgasm just so she could breathe.

And so they had sex every day (even two or three times a day) for the three weeks. Brittany was getting more and more rundown every day from the combination of late nights and a harrowing workload at her job. Then one day it all came to a head.

The morning after a particularly vigorous lady loving session Brittany woke up feeling terrible. That was an understatement. She felt absolutely fucking wrecked.

She felt like someone had forcibly kept her eyes open all night. She was incredibly tired and her eyes burned so bad that it was hard to keep them open. But she had to get them open so that she could get up and go make breakfast and then head out to her studio. So, with great reluctance Brittany got up from the bed (being careful not to wake up her still asleep wife) and opened her mouth for a deep yawn.

It was at this point that she realised that that person who had kept her eyes open had apparently been punching her in the jaw all night too and that opening her jaw more than a half inch open produced excruciating pain. Before she could help it, a yowl worthy of Lord Tubbington escaped her mouth and then next thing she knew, Santana was awake and by her side, worrying over her.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

She struggled out the words "My jaw," which made the ache even more prominent. Once Santana assessed the situation properly she nodded determinedly.

"Sit down and relax while I make breakfast. Afterwards you can get dressed and we'll go to the doctor," She demanded.

"But-"

"Sit _down_. I'll make you a smoothie."

And it was a delicious smoothie that almost made having to go see the doctor okay. She never liked going to the doctor's because she didn't trust anyone who kept jars of giant popsicle sticks and insisted that there were no giant popsicles and that those things were called "tongue depressors". But maybe that was a good name because she was totally depressors when she heard there were no popsicles. She was okay with their lady baby doctor because she was helping them create their child, but she usually found every excuse to get out of going to their regular doctor.

But by the way that Santana had taken charge, calling Brittany's coworker to cover her for the day, and insisting that they not take any detours on the way to the doctor's office to get popsicles, Brittany suspected that any excuses she had just wouldn't do the trick.

At the start the doctor's visit wasn't so bad. He had inspected for bruises, had asked her to open her mouth as wide as she could comfortably (which wasn't very wide at all), and asked her a series of questions.

Finally, he said "It seems like you've been overworking your jaw. You must chew a lot of gum."

Santana flushed and looked to the side, guiltily.

"Ah um yes. Gum. That must be it," Brittany managed.

"She's always chewing it. Day and night," Santana added.

"I love it," Brittany nodded.

Doctor Sorenson let them finish their nervous blurt and raised an eyebrow.

"Okay then. The simple solution to this is to stop chewing gum."

They both looked at him blankly.

"What?"

"You've only overworked your jaw at the moment, but if this keeps up you could need surgery in a few years' time. So since you seem to chew vigorously and often enough that it causes harm, I would say to just give up chewing it for the sake of your health," He explained.

Brittany and Santana exchanged mortified looks.

"But… but… what if I don't want to stop chewing it for the rest of my life?" the blonde asked.

"Well are you capable of limiting your chewing? Because if you can't moderate then I suggest quitting altogether."

"She can't quit! We both really enjoy when she chews gum, it's a part of what makes our marriage so strong," Santana protested.

The doctor was clearly not impressed.

"That's a little shallow, isn't it?"

Santana had been incredibly indignant when they left the office with the doctor's orders for rest and no solid food until the pain went away.

"How dare he talk to us about our marriage like that? He probably doesn't even know _how_ to give his wife an orgasm!"

She went on for a while but in truth Brittany was a little thankful to the doctor. Now she could take a little break from the daily sexfests that had been wearing her down. And she didn't think it meant that she could never go down on Santana again, just that she'd be pleasuring Santana with her fingers more than her mouth most of the time. And for the next few days she enjoyed being fawned over by her wife. Plus she got to eat all the popsicles she wanted.

But then it started.

"God, I'm so horny," Santana muttered under her breath.

Brittany had heard, but she pretended not to. She was still on her break.

The next day it started again, this time more audibly.

"I can't stop thinking about sex. I'm really horny, Britt."

"Oh. Right," the blonde responded before continuing to stare fixedly at the episode of Sweet Valley High that they had been watching.

Santana scowled and left the room.

She kept dropping little hints for the next two days until one night Brittany was prepared for her. Well, not prepared to have sex with her, but something close.

"Brittany, I'm so turned on. Feel how turned on I am," Santana then shoved her wife's hand down her underwear.

She most certainly _was_ turned on. But it had been a long day and Brittany needed some sleep so, retrieving her hand from the drawers, she reached for the package she had set aside for this very moment.

"Well I'm pretty tired at the moment, but I have something for you to take care of that."

And with that, she passed the package over to Santana.

"You bought me a vibrator?" Santana asked disbelievingly.

"A Hitachi Magic Wand, like the one they had on Sex and the City! I think you'll like it," Brittany tried to persuade her.

"You want me to use this on myself while you sleep? You're not even going to help me use it?"

"Not tonight at least, because I'm dead on my feet. Later on this week we can use it, or I can just make love to you without batteries, but tonight it looks like it's the Hitachi or no orgasms," She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.

Santana didn't seem to approve of her casual manner if that glare was any indication. Brittany didn't really understand the hostility since she was giving her wife the Hitachi as an act of mercy. Or at least that's the way Rachel put it when helping her choose the right vibrator. Another act of mercy was not telling the girl that Rachel helped choose the tool of (hopefully) many future orgasms. But the way Santana was looking right now, she wasn't sure if her wife was going to club her over the head with the wand or drop her pants and go for it right there.

"Fine, since you so desperately want to sleep while I'm getting myself off, let's get to it."

Brittany blinked before breaking out into a grin.

"Really? You want to use it?"

"Oh of course! I'll even go into the bathroom so I don't wake you up as I rub –pardon me –_vibe_ one out," Santana said, sarcasm dripping from her words.

Brittany felt like there were issues regarding insecurity and trust that probably should have been addressed at that moment. But she was really, _really_ tired (she heard that this is what parenthood is like –the constant quest for sleep that never comes, so she might as well catch it while she could!) And plus orgasms are good for fixing things. Or ruining them. One of those two.

So she just said, "Have fun, babe. I loooove youuuuu!"

Santana rolled her eyes and grabbed the box. And then she scrambled off the bed and stripped her clothes off.

"Well I'm going to take them off anyway," she explained, seeing Brittany's slack jaw.

Brittany caught the not-so-innocent smile that let her know that the stunt was meant to get her going. The next second their en suite bathroom's door was slamming shut, but was left unlocked, conveniently enough. Just in case Brittany changed her mind, she supposed.

She wasn't falling for this cheap trick.

She just had to not think about all that luxurious skin and that ass and those boobs that have only become more impressive since becoming pregnant. And stop thinking about not thinking about them because when she was thinking about not thinking about them she ended up thinking about them. She should be thinking about sleep, because that's exactly what she was going to be doing in about five minutes. Brittany shook her head, closed the light and crawled under the covers. With the only light in the room being the sliver coming from the en suite, she snuggled into the bed and sighed comfortably.

Sleep, at last.

And sleep greeted her like an old friend.

Or it would have, but Brittany and Rachel had not taken one thing into account when buying the vibrator.

The Hitachi Magic Wand was _notoriously_ loud.

Brittany's eyes sprung open when an obnoxious buzzing noise filled the room. The blonde had bought her fair share of vibrators, but this was the Rachel Berry of vibrators. It begged to be noticed with it noisiness. And so Brittany was very aware when the _other_ sounds started.

"Oh… _oh_," came from behind the door.

Initial surprise and then sudden realisation. Brittany licked her suddenly dry lips and sat up in bed, straining to hear more.

There was breathing. Panting, really. Coming in quick, short bursts, like she was trying to hold it all together. Like she was trying not to completely fall apart.

"Fuck. Oh wow –oh _god_," Santana moaned.

Oh god these sheets were hot. Brittany threw them off and squirmed on the bed slightly. For some reason she was feeling wide awake. Isn't that always the case when you finally get to bed? So weird. Let's have science explain that one.

Little grunts and delighted sounds were making their way to her ears, all through the sound of the vibration. Brittany stilled her breathing so she could hear even more of it.

Within little time Santana's breaths were growing ragged and desperate. It was going to happen, and soon, but didn't they –or um, rather –Santana just get started? Out of instinct, Brittany's hand grasped at the waistband of her sleep pants and it took everything in her to keep from plunging that hand into them and to bring herself to an orgasm of her own.

Suddenly Santana's breath hitched and moments later she let out a deep, bodily moan. And now the obnoxious buzzing was gone and nothing could be heard, save a wonder-filled "Jesus," murmured by the girl.

The door was flung open and Brittany flailed for a second before darting back under the covers.

"Oh, hey, that was quick."

Santana's legs were shaking as she walked back into the room and went to put her nightclothes back on.

"Yeah," was the simple response.

Now Santana was crawling into bed and just having her that close after hearing her set fire to Brittany's body. Once again she was terribly, terribly turned on. And she had made the mistake of thinking she didn't want sex tonight. This was a problem since now she couldn't stop imagining Santana touching her own body and bringing herself to a terribly quick climax from the flurry of sensation.

"So- um did you… did you like it? The present, I mean. You're all satisfied and everything? No lingering horniness at all?"

Santana yawned loudly.

"Yes, I'm fully satisfied. That thing really does its job. Now can we get to sleep, Britt?"

Within minutes Santana was asleep and Brittany was left wide awake. And wet. She sighed out of frustration.

Then, tentatively, her hand crept down into the waistband of her pants, further and further as she remembered the gasps and moans and imagined Santana arching back as the toy between her legs drew all those sounds out of her. Brittany let out her own muted gasp as she touched herself softly. It had been so long since she last got any relief and just touching herself lightly like this made her body react so strongly. She was sure that she wouldn't even last as long as Santana did with mechanical aid, she just needed to keep-

Just at that moment Santana let out a loud snore. Followed by another.

The blonde sighed again and drew her hand out of the pants. Orgasms off the table, she settled for spooning her wife and the reassuring feeling of her little cancan dancer and/or soccer player son kicking away at her hand. Tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow she'd be able to relieve a little sexual frustration with Santana.

* * *

><p>She didn't.<p>

It turned out that Santana was a little upset that Brittany had given her a sex toy instead of helping her to her orgasm herself and was expressing these feelings through passive aggression.

Brittany found this out when she tried to make the moves on her wife. Santana was just sitting on the couch primly, reading a book of baby names. So the blonde sat beside her and placed a hand on her knee. The hand was ignored. So she drew it up to the thigh, tracing little circles with her index and middle finger distractedly. If she paid more attention to her actions she would have realised that that was exactly how her fingers moved when she was touching Santana intimately. Santana certainly noticed this fact, however, and redoubled her focus on the book. The hand went from Santana's thigh to toy with her hair. But she just kept quiet and unmoving until soon Brittany was half on top of her in an attempt to gain her attention.

"Was there something you wanted, Brittany?"

"I was thinking. I'm not feeling tired today and listening to you last night was really hot and so I was hoping that today we could have sex. Without the toy," the blonde flashed her most charming smile.

"Sex without the Hitachi? I don't want to think about what that would be like. The Magic Wand has completely changed my life," Santana insisted, putting down her book, finally.

Brittany felt her features fall into a sceptical look.

"Oh really?"

"My god yes. One orgasm with that vibrator is like a hundred regular orgasms. I'm just so happy you introduced me to the toy because now I don't have to disturb your sleep patterns with my raging libido," Santana said, really throwing herself into the act.

At that Brittany saw how things were going to be and extracted herself from the girl.

"Sure, whatever. Enjoy yourself."

"I will. I always do with my Hitachi."

What, was she some kind of representative for the brand now? Brittany left the room in a cloud of sexual frustration.

On the second day Brittany found out that the vibrator now had a name (a really dirty one she didn't care to say aloud) and was a cherished possession that required its own drawer since it apparently could not go in the drawer where they kept their other sex toys. Then Brittany was shot down once again.

On the third day Santana really wanted to milk the vibrator thing just a little more and so she went upstairs to go grab it, intent on making Britt listen to her having a little fun one more time. But when she opened the door of the room she saw that that was going to be difficult. Considering she was currently in a state of shock at finding her ever-so-sexy wife lying on their bed naked, casually holding the Hitachi.

"Oh hi Santana. How are you doing?"

How _was_ she doing? Was she still alive and conscious because this seemed like more of a dream or hallucination.

"I… okay."

"You okay, huh? That's great," Brittany smiled dazzlingly at her.

Finally, Santana got a hold of herself and was able to say a whole sentence.

"Well um wow. What are you doing naked on the bed? Waiting for me?" She hoped that didn't sound too hopeful since she _had_ been trying to get back at Brittany for… something she couldn't quite remember right now.

Brittany laughed a bit and uncrossed her legs, drawing them up and separating them. Santana's brain went on a holiday.

"Nope, wasn't waiting for you."

"Whuh?" was Santana's oh-so-eloquent response.

"I was just thinking that I would stop asking you for sex since apparently the real deal is this," Brittany lifted the Hitachi Magic Wand up.

Santana felt her jaw drop in realisation. She wasn't going to… was she?

"So I just figured I'd try it out. Who knows? I might not want regular sex after this either," the blonde really laid it on thick.

And then loud buzzing filled the room as she turned the vibrator on. Eyes locked with Santana, she brought the toy between her legs slowly.

"Wow," they both said.

Brittany seemed surprised by the intensity of the toy. Soon she had to break the eye contact she held with Santana in favour of throwing her head back and moaning loudly. Santana's clothes felt binding, restricting, so she took off her shirt. It was really hot in the room, anyway.

Now Brittany's free hand was at her breast, running over the nipple and working herself up even more than she already was. Her hips were lifting off the bed, working into the toy, varying the amount of contact to her clit. Santana really did not want to soak through these pants, so she did the natural thing and took them off too.

Brittany was coming ever closer to the point of no return, she could feel it. Her orgasm coiled tightly in her lower abdomen, only needing a last little push to come out. She opened her eyes, saw a half-naked Santana looking at her in hunger and groaned.

Santana could see it, Brittany was about to fall off the precipice and that last groan was enough invitation for her. She climbed on the bed and took the Hitachi out of Brittany's hand. She brought it between her panting wife's legs and relished the look of desperation on her face. Needing more physical contact, Brittany crashed their lips together. She swiped a tongue at the closed lips, begging for entrance. When it was granted and she felt the caress of Santana's tongue against hers, she felt what had been held back come crashing through her.

She moaned into Santana before tearing herself away. She was coming completely undone under the toy and her wife. Santana helped her ride out the orgasm and finally turned the toy off, knowing it would be too intense post-orgasm. Instead she brought her fingers to Brittany, touching her softly until the girl let out a pleased sigh.

"I'm sorry."

Brittany blinked in confusion.

"For what?"

"I shouldn't have been such a brat the last few days. The last month, really. It's okay if you need a break from sex. I shouldn't just expect it constantly. You mean so much more to me than just that," Santana told her earnestly.

Brittany found her lips being drawn to Santana's as though they were magnets.

"I love you so much. If it was possible I would get you pregnant again right now," she told her.

Santana smiled, even though that concept absolutely terrified her. If the little guy wanted a brother or sister, they weren't coming out of her womb, that's for sure. But another thing she knew was that from now on they were going to be open and honest about sex, just like their vows said they would be.


	4. What's in a Name?

Part Four –What's in a Name?

Brittany was in serious trouble.

She had the various parts of a baby crib strewn around the room, a pile of screws, and a set of instructions written completely in Dutch. Why did she never learn the language of her people again? Or well, her grandparents' people, anyway. She sighed in exasperation and focussed her eyes on the diagram in hopes that it would yield the help she desperately needed.

So, based on that it seemed like she was going to have to put panel A next to panel B, put a screw in and… make them have panel sex or something?

Scratch that. She was _fucked_.

She threw the instructions to the side and looked at the dismantled crib. Did she really need those instructions? I mean, how hard is it to make a crib? It's just like a little jail cell thing except without a roof but it's okay because the prisoner's not strong enough to escape. How could she mess up a rectangular box?

She started setting up where the pieces would go when she heard a now-familiar ringing. It got louder and more insistent the more she tried to figure out the enigma of the crib until she threw the piece she was holding down and ran out the room. She followed the sound right into the living room.

Santana was ringing her little goddamn golden bell like someone was paying her to do it while leisurely sprawling out on the couch. She had taken to using the hand bell to call Brittany when she needed her. It was _supposed_ to be for emergencies.

Not for "Britt-Britt, my feet are swollen. Can you give me a foot rub?"

Brittany rolled her eyes.

"Honey, you can't keep calling me away for every little thing or else the baby won't have anywhere to sleep when he comes."

"But that's not for another seven weeks! Come on Brittany, I need your hands on me so much right now," Santana moaned.

"Don't make it sound like sex. Giving you a foot massage is pretty much the opposite of sex," Brittany mumbled.

Nevertheless, she sat at the end of the couch, lifted Santana's tired feet into her lap and started kneading them softly.

"It's sex to someone, baby. There are probably tons of people out there who would love to give me a foot massage. Uhh yeah that feels amazing. But they won't get the opportunity, because the only person that should be giving me foot massages is my wife."

It was sweet, in a way. And Santana was smiling cheekily, like she knew it was working. Brittany shook her head.

"Whatever you say, Santana."

And she continued to massage her wife's feet while Santana let out little sounds of pleasure (sex noises, basically) until she decided she was done with the massage and moved her feet out of the lap.

"Speaking of the baby coming soon…"

"We're not really on that topic anymore."

"Shhh- we really need to get cracking on finding the right name for him. I know we've been throwing out names randomly, but we really need to settle on one. Something that won't get him beaten up at school," Santana told her, now taking on a serious tone.

Brittany clasped her hands together in excitement. She had a whole list of names that she knew Santana was going to love.

Much later Santana sighed in frustration.

"No Britt, we are _not_ naming our child Pigwidgeon."

Brittany raised her hands defensively. "I know it's long, but we could call him Pig for short. It would be fun!"

"I already know I'm pushing out a porker based on the amount of food he's making me eat. I really don't think it's necessary to give him a lifelong reminder of that," Santana told her, dismissing the name completely.

Seeing Brittany's pout, she decided to try to suggest a nice, normal name that Brittany would be on board with.

"How about Evan?"

The blonde snorted with laughter.

"Oh yeah, that's good. Evan. _E-van_. Like an internet-based van? Yeah, the kids sure won't jump on that opportunity."

Santana rolled her eyes at that. "Unless he goes to school with a bunch of Brittany Pierces, I think he will be fine. But whatever, you think of the next one."

Brittany sat back in the couch and hummed slightly in her deep contemplation. A minute went by. And then another.

"I thought you had a whole list of names, you've only given me three so far."

"Don't rush me, Santana. I'm just about to figure out the best name for our boy. It'll just be a-" She cut off and gasped audibly.

Santana got caught up in the moment, getting excited about whatever her wife had thought up. "What is it? What have you got?"

Now Brittany was giving Santana a dazzling grin, certain that she had solved their name-choosing woes.

"I have the perfect name. It's one that would express his Latino roots…"

Santana smiled in surprise. She didn't think that Brittany would think about that, but it was a genuine concern of Santana's that her child may become alienated from Latino culture. "Good," she encouraged.

"…And we would be naming him after someone that is known for his kindness and generosity. He's basically everything that a good person should be, which is what I hope my son would try to be."

Brittany had better not be suggesting they name their son after her ex-boyfriend. Because besides the jealousy issues, Artie was a shit name if you asked Santana. But wait, how was that Latino?

"So I think we should name him Jesus, like our gardener. Except not pronounced Jesus, but like the Spanish way –Hey Zeus. I mean, Hercules is like my third favourite Disney movie, after all."

Santana blinked, reeling from trying to keep up with Brittany's thought process. It seemed to be even more random than usual today.

"Okay. Um. Yeah. Let's put that one in the 'maybe' list for now. What do you think of the name Nicholas? Nick for short?"

She could tell this once again completely legitimate name was not going over well when Brittany's brows drew together.

"I think of that weird kid in grade school who liked to eat glue. Nick Perkins. One time I lent him my markers and you know what that jerk did? He coloured over a picture he drew in black with my yellow marker so that whenever I used it after that there was always a little black in the yellow. It wasn't pure yellow ever again. I hate that guy," Brittany seethed.

Santana's features settled into a frown. She really liked the name Nick, and Brittany was just being petty right now.

"Brittany, that was years ago. Nick is a great name. You can't just shoot down the name because someone you don't like shares it, otherwise I'd be saying no to every name because I hate a lot of people in the world."

"You have said no to every name I choose…" Brittany grumbled. "But what if one day I see him again and he asks me about my life and then finds out my kid is named Nick and thinks that I've been in love with his marker-ruining ass this whole time?"

"That's not going to happen! You haven't seen him since fifth grade, you wouldn't even recognise him. Now do you have another name for me since you're obviously not agreeing to that one?" Santana asked sharply, tension and frustration mounting.

Brittany knew she was in a dangerous position. Santana sounded like she was on the edge of snapping into one of her pregnancy rages. But you know what? She was starting to feel a little pissed off herself. And why was Santana the only one who was allowed to be emotional? When was it Brittany's turn to be difficult and angry?

"What about Lord Tubbington Junior?"

She saw Santana's jaw clench at the suggestion.

"Brittany, that's like saying a cat is the kid's father."

"So?"

Okay, Brittany said this last suggestion not so much in seriousness so much as in an attempt to get a rise out of Santana. And it worked like a charm.

"It's great to know that you're taking this as a big joke. I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you and you're just doing your own thing," Santana shook her head in disgust.

"I am taking this seriously. You think I don't care about our son? You're just totally ignoring my names and acting like they're the dumbest things. What's wrong with Hey Zeus?"

"You're not coming up with any real names! And I'm not naming him after our gardener. What's wrong with Nicholas?" Santana asked, getting more and more agitated.

"You just don't care about what I have to say! It doesn't matter what kind of names I would come up with, you would say no. You want things your way. You want Nick and so you're going to try to bully me into caving."

"I don't care what you have to say? Really! Oh yeah, that's why I've been humouring these terrible ideas for the last half hour!"

The dig hurt and the only thing Brittany could think to do was to get Santana right back.

"Just because you're pregnant doesn't mean that you get to call all the shots. I've been waiting on you constantly since you got pregnant. I've been walking on eggshells with you, afraid of upsetting you since it seems to be the easiest thing to do these days. Not anymore," She levelled a glare at her wife.

"If you think I'm giving into you when you won't even consider my names then you have another thing coming," She crossed her arms confrontationally.

Santana did not seem to appreciate this. She laughed bitterly and straightened out before launching into her counterattack.

"So, you want to be difficult, huh? Well being difficult isn't going to make those names any less horrible than they are. And if I'm being such a terrible, hormonal wife then maybe we should just not name the kid until I give birth and stop being so crazy! In fact, maybe you should just leave me to be crazy by myself and then you'd have a lot less to worry about. Is that what you want?"

Brittany opened her mouth to snarl a reply that she was sure to regret later when she was interrupted by the sound of the front door bursting open. Their argument derailed effortlessly. They shared a look of alarm before going into the hallway to investigate.

And before the open door, in all her glory, holding a bag that was so large it could double as a body bag, was Rachel Berry.

"Oh, there you two are," She said casually, like she hadn't just marched into their house with no notice.

At ease, the girl closed the front door and threw her oversized bag on the floor.

"I assumed that you two were too busy engaging in intercourse to hear the doorbell and so I let myself in."

As per usual, Rachel was painfully oblivious to both the palpable tension in the room and the fact that they were much too clothed to be 'engaging in intercourse'.

"I know you must be furious with me for interrupting your special time, though if you ask me, how special is it if it's constant?" She asked herself.

Brittany swore she could almost _hear_ Santana's teeth grinding. She would have put a hand on the small of Santana's back to calm her down a bit, but given how she was feeling pretty pissed at her wife, that just wasn't going to happen.

"Point, Berry. Why are you barging in?"

"Right. I'm here to save the day slash your marriage. Yay!"

She clapped enthusiastically for herself until she realised that Santana and Brittany weren't joining in so much as staring her down with hostility.

"Let me elaborate. I am here to give Brittany a much needed reprieve from waiting on her loving but high-maintenance pregnant wife. I have planned a fun-filled day off for you, Brittany while I do all the things you would normally do today in your stead- such as cleaning, baby preparation, and taking care of Santana."

Santana muttered a murderous "I'll take care of _you_," while Brittany just blinked repeatedly.

"Rachel, that's really nice of you, but now's not the best time-"

"Nonsense! I know how hard you've been working so you absolutely need a day off. All of our friends agree, which is why they let me plan this. In fact, at this moment Sam is in his car outside, waiting to chauffeur you to a surprise location."

"But-" Brittany started to argue, but Rachel was already ushering her down the hall and opening the door for her.

"But nothing, Brittany. I can handle everything here, now get out there and have a great time!"

Brittany and Santana shared a look that said 'this conversation isn't over' before the blonde was all but shoved out of the door.

* * *

><p>Half an hour later Santana was in utter agony.<p>

It started with Rachel getting this _brilliant_ idea that she should serenade the baby with her greatest hits to promote an extremely early appreciation for the arts. Apparently Santana's effusive "fuck no's" were not understood because now Rachel was working through her first album with no signs of stopping until she worked her way through all five.

What had Santana done to deserve this?

I mean, sure, she could have entertained Brittany's ideas more but she was going to be damned if she was going to let her son be named after an animal.

Weak from the wailing in her ears, she sought out her last chance for survival. She grasped her cell and typed out a quick text message.

'Help, a troll is keeping me captive in my own home.'

She pressed send and hoped for the best. Rachel was still belting a note, eyes closed and arms outstretched dramatically. Santana covered her ears, but it really did not do the job of muting the sound. And for the next fifteen minutes she regretted not buying industrial ear plugs the last time she was at Home Depot (not that she went there a lot because that was a _terrible_ stereotype. Terrible.) And then finally there was reprieve as the front door was once again violently opened. Rachel was startled out of a heartfelt rendition of 'Argyle on my Mind' or 'Sad Cat Lady Medley' or whatever it was that she had been singing at the time and Santana's eardrums finally stopped bleeding.

Before they had the chance to rush out to find out who their newest uninvited guest was, Quinn was in the threshold, pink faced and out of breath.

"'Sup?" She tried to be casual.

"What is this, 2002? And how did you get here so fast, you live like thirty minutes away?"

"Shut up, no I don't. Why would you even think? You're such a little… anyway, you wanted me here!" Quinn huffed.

Rachel went from looking shocked to elated.

"You're here to join me in the tasks of the day? This is great! We'll be able to accomplish so much more than I would by myself. Provided there are no… _distractions_."

That was weird. The warning tone that Berry used just now. But the look that Quinn was giving her was weird too.

"I'm sure that any _distractions_ that happen would be mostly your fault," The blonde said tersely.

Rachel frowned at that.

"Oh really? Because you seem to enjoy _distractions_ yourself, rather than focussing on the matter at hand."

"Come on, Rach, you're the queen of _distraction_. You practically beg for it."

"I'm feeling really uncomfortable right now," Santana tried.

She was ignored.

"Okay, let's call off the coded talk. Let's just say that today is all about Santana, taking care of her needs while Brittany takes a day off. We'll make her feel comfortable, do some chores around the house, and set up the baby's room. In order to do all these things, I suggest that we not give in to our base human urges today and conduct ourselves properly," Rachel explained, simply.

Santana's "Oh God. _Gross_," and subsequent gagging sounds were also ignored. Now she knew what Quinn meant when she said that Rachel was grossing out her baby. She really did feel that little Jesus was dry heaving in her womb just hearing this crime against humanity.

"Yeah, I think I can control myself for one day. I just don't want _you_ to get distracted because you're too busy mooning over me," Quinn shrugged nonchalantly.

"Now Quinn, just because you have been touching my _lady_ regularly it doesn't mean you have to be weird when we're hanging out with mutual friends. I've researched this, it's called being friends with benefits. Despite my behaviour with my past relationships, I am perfectly content sexually stimulating you without becoming emotionally attached. And now if you'll excuse me, the kitchen is in desperate need of a mop."

And with a small flick of her hair, Rachel left to do just that. Then Quinn turned and stared at Santana with a desperate look in her eye.

_Nonononononono…_

"No! Don't tell me anything. I don't want to know, I don't want to hear-"

But Quinn ignored her a third time.

"What does she mean she's not emotionally attached to me? She's Rachel! She's an expert at falling for people and then doing nothing to hide it."

"I don't care. I really don't, Quinn," Santana tried pleading.

"Am I not good enough or something? Because I guarantee you that those orgasms I gave her were top-notch," Quinn was getting all worked up and letting gross words come out of her mouth.

Santana put her hands over her ears again, and yet again it did nothing to stem the flow of unpleasant things from reaching her ears.

"Ugh Quinn, stop, seriously. I will eat all of the bacon in the world if keep talking."

She must have been really focussed on being offended by Rachel because the bacon thing didn't even phase her.

"I'm probably the first one to even give her an orgasm too because Finn probably thinks clitoris is the capital city of Clitoria, a small country in Eastern Europe. Although now that I think about it, she's probably given herself one…. Huh." The blonde's eyes went glassy in contemplation.

And that's when Santana started actively looking for a receptacle for her potential vomit.

"This is the worst day ever. Brittany better be enjoying herself," Santana muttered bitterly.

* * *

><p>Brittany <em>was<em> enjoying herself. Sort of.

Sam couldn't stay with her because he had errands to run, so she was a little lonely. But he had said that he would come pick her up whenever she was ready to go, which was nice of him.

Instead of sending her to the spa or something, like Brittany expected, Rachel had the idea to send her to the zoo. It was a great alternative because the last time she went to the spa the ladies got mad at her because she kept eating the slices of cucumber they put on her eyes. But it wasn't her _fault_ she got hungry, they kept giving her champagne and everyone knows you're not supposed to drink on an empty stomach.

The zoo she could handle. There was no booze but they had plenty of corndogs and candy apples and popcorn so she wouldn't go hungry. And then there was the fact that she crazy loved the zoo.

There were lions and tigers and bears, oh my! And she normally wouldn't quite know where to go or what to do with herself except Rachel had written her a full schedule for today.

_12:00 arrive at zoo_

_12:05 enjoy the colourful birds in the aviary, but don't linger_

_12:07 experience the majesty of the timber wolves_

_12:12 get distracted by colourful array of treats at concession stand_

_12:13 debate whether you should get cotton candy, a candy apple, or a snow cone_

_12:14 ask yourself whether, as an adult, you should resist the urge to buy all three_

_12:15 decide on snow cone and then become filled with regret, wondering what your life would have been like if you had chosen cotton candy or a candy apple_

It just kind of went on in that weirdly detailed, eerily accurate way. She had even been given little plastic bags filled with money that were labelled for what expenses they would cover, such as 'Snow cone of regret fund' and 'When you inevitably give into the urge to get cotton candy'.

So she was having fun, basically. Seeing the fruit bats climbing the wall of their cage made her almost happy enough that she could ignore the sick feeling in her gut that was still present from her fight with Santana. Remembering the way Santana said that Brittany should just leave her so that she wouldn't have to deal with Santana's craziness left a lump in the blonde's throat.

That was just uncalled for. Brittany had more than proven how dedicated she was to Santana.

Then again, she had sort of baited Santana by suggesting "Lord Tubbington junior" as a name.

But did she have to knock down her other suggestions so quickly? I mean, who wouldn't want to be named after Ron Weasley's owl?

"Would you name your child Pigwidgeon, concession stand guy?"

The man in question grimaced in distaste.

"Hell no. Is that even a real name? Now choose something and get out of here so I can go for a smoke," the cantankerous young man told her.

Fine. Maybe Pigwidgeon wasn't the best name. Now that she thought about it, the name kind of reminded her of Piggy from Lord of the Flies. And that movie scarred her for life when she had to watch it in high school. So maybe Santana had been right on that count. Moving away from the stand, Brittany took a bite of her snow cone. It was supposed to be blue raspberry flavoured, but Rachel had been right. The taste flooding her mouth was regret.

* * *

><p>Santana was similarly upset by the memory of their fight, but she had a whole different set of animals to distract herself with.<p>

"-and she's always calling all the shots! Do you think I _like_ being called up at 2 in the morning? She doesn't even have the decency to call me earlier to at least pretend like it's not just a booty call," Quinn whined to her.

Santana sighed heavily.

"If you're going to force me to listen to this can you at least give me a foot rub?"

Quinn nodded distractedly and pulled Santana's feet into her lap.

"She just uses me, but it's all wrong. _I_ should be the one using her and denying my feelings, instead of the other way around."

"From what I've seen, Rachel doesn't have any feelings for you, repressed or otherwise," Santana commented.

Really, it had to be said, because Quinn was just being stupid about this. And plus the way the blonde's mouth set in a thin line from being so pissed off was just hilarious.

"I think you're wrong because the way she looks at me after I've made her come is-"

"Seriously! How can you be so bad at giving foot rubs? Brittany doesn't do it like that!" Santana exclaimed in an attempt to completely change the course of the conversation before she got sick.

"Quinn! Could you come give me a hand in here?" Rachel called out from another room.

The hopeful look on Quinn's face at that made Santana decide that those two needed supervision, lest they defile her house.

So she watched the two attempt to put together the crib, occasionally yelling out criticisms, or telling them to shut up when they squabbled too much. But mostly she just sat in the rocking chair and thought about Brittany.

She didn't _mean_ to get so heated up. It just kind of happened. She knew that Brittany was just trying her best and that once more Santana had let her down by letting her hormones rule her emotions.

But really, why couldn't Brittany pick any normal names?

Jake, Kevin, Derrick, were those kinds of names so hard to think of?

Although it seemed like Brittany had put a lot of thought into Jesus (or Hey Zeus) and Santana had basically struck that one down just as fast as she had the animal-based ones. Maybe that hadn't been really fair of her.

"Why won't you date me?" Quinn suddenly burst out.

Santana's attention snapped to the girls again. Rachel lifted an eyebrow and regarded the blonde much like a small child that was throwing a tantrum.

"Because, Quinn," she started in an aggravatingly patronizing tone that Santana was sure that Quinn would just love. "Cunnilingus is not a marriage contract."

Santana couldn't help but to burst out into laughter. Finally this tragedy she was living since those two losers showed up was starting to look more like a comedy.

* * *

><p>Brittany was <em>not<em> having fun.

She had tried to, honestly. She wanted to have fun. But everywhere she went she was seeing couples holding hands or pushing strollers. When she passed the gorillas she spotted a father giving his son a boost up to see the exhibit and what must have been the mother saying "be careful" with a fond smile. After that Brittany's chest just tightened right up and not even her recently acquired cotton candy could help the feeling.

It was hard to enjoy the animals when she had no one to enjoy them with. She had found this out at the Siberian tiger enclosure, when two of the animals got into a play fight instead of just lounging around and sleeping like usual. Brittany was delighted and had turned to the side to see if Santana was as happy as she was, only to realise that she wasn't there. No one was there.

Okay, not no one, exactly. But she really did not count that awkward little stoner that sent her a grin back and proceeded to follow her to the next four exhibits, where Brittany looked at everything _but_ him. Then he got the hint and slumped away.

The point was that here she was in one of her favourite places in the world and the only thing she seemed able to focus on was how much she missed Santana. Even though she and Santana had gotten into a fight (that she suddenly didn't feel too riled up about), she would trade all of her arcade money (also in a labelled bag) just to be with her and for things to be right between them. For god's sake she had to walk right by the leopard exhibit without stopping because it reminded her of Santana's leopard print lingerie and the reminder was too painful.

Brittany was about ready to call it quits for the day. She would just have to get a ride from Sam and somehow find a way to fix things with her wife when something stopped her.

"Nicholas! Come out Nick!"

Brittany snapped to attention at the child's shout. Scanning the area, she found the source to be a little blonde girl in a sundress who was hanging around the gate to the polar bear enclosure.

Was it really Nicholas that she had shouted? Man, was that ever a coincidence.

Wait a minute. She was calling out a boy's name in front of the polar bear enclosure? Brittany's jaw dropped in horror. Visions of a young blonde boy leaving his sister to slip in to the exhibit and visit with the polar bears filled her head. She ran over to the gate next to the girl, in a panic.

"Nicholas! Come out, please!" She yelled desperately.

Little Blonde Girl looked at her approvingly.

"You wanna see him too, huh? I don't know if we will because he really likes that cave down there. My mom and dad say we can only stay for five more minutes and then we have to go do Important Things," she explained.

What kind of sick parents would not want to wait to see if their son was all right? Brittany had half a mind to…

As she dropped her eyes from the enclosure she encountered a sign that stated that "Nicholas the Polar bear" lived there.

Oh. Well that explained things.

Nicholas was a pretty good name, actually. Brittany totally believed that it was a boy's name, when in reality it was a bear's name. That was like the best of both worlds, Santana could get the name she wanted and Brittany could have the baby named after an animal. It was a fairly good name, after all. Come to think of it, back in the day her favourite Backstreet Boy was Nick. And she really liked Nickelodeon. And Santa Claus was sometimes called Saint Nicholas. These were all really good points in the name's favour.

And then, as though it was a sign from God, Nicholas the Polar bear peeked out of his private cave and then ambled out. Little Blonde Girl gasped in amazement.

"We did it!" she shrieked much too loudly before running over to her parents to share the news.

Nicholas was decidedly less excited about the fact that he was out of his cave. He took a couple more steps before slumping lazily onto the ground. Brittany smiled, her mind at peace for the first time this whole outing. She knew how she was going to make everything right. She just had to make one last stop.

* * *

><p>Rachel and Quinn's bickering had gone from being hilarious to being the most annoying thing that Santana's ever had to endure.<p>

"You never even thought that I might like a couple's cat calendar? You're so insensitive!" Quinn shouted.

"Have you ever considered that maybe you don't deserve a cat calendar? Plus, we are not a couple!" Rachel bellowed back.

Finally, Santana had had enough. When she saw Quinn open her mouth, she reached for her hand bell (that she kept on her person at all times for emergencies such as these) and started ringing it obnoxiously. Rachel and Quinn turned to her and started moving their mouths as though they were bitching at her to stop. So Santana just shook her head while continuing to ring the bell and then brought up her index finger to her lips in a signal for them to shush. Only when they grudgingly closed their mouths did Santana put down the bell.

"Okay, here's the thing. I've been listening to you two fighting and sharing disgusting personal details for the last four hours, ever since the dwarf here barged into my house and interrupted me and Britt's argument. I can't take it anymore, you two need to stop."

Quinn just glared at her, but Santana figured the bitch had been glaring all day, let her glare a little more. Rachel on the other hand just crossed her arms over her chest and looked indignant.

"Well if you've been using that bell to shut Brittany up then no wonder you two were fighting. I thought the mood felt a bit heavy when I came in," She said snottily.

"And yet you didn't leave when you felt the tension? Typical. And just so you know, I do not use the bell to shut Brittany up because I love her and she's not super annoying like you two are," Santana scowled at them. "I just ring the bell when I need something –like breadsticks or sweet lady kisses and she helps me out."

It was only when she saw the look of disbelief on Rachel and Quinn's faces that she realised how bad that sounded.

"You seriously call her with a little bell? What is she, your butler?"

Santana did not like how Quinn was getting in her face and _judging_ her on this small detail of her life.

"No! It was just to save my voice from all that yelling I was doing before. It was Britt's idea!"

It wasn't.

"I knew you've been selfish lately, but really this is a whole new level."

That's all it took for Santana to deflate heavily as the reality of how she's been treating her wife settled upon her.

"I know. I don't know how I could justify the bell. I'll get rid of it. She doesn't deserve that," she admitted.

"Is that what you've been fighting about?" Rachel asked.

"No, I have to say that in that fight I was being the sensible one for once. Unless you also think that naming your son Pigwidgeon or Jesus is the best idea in the world."

Quinn's face scrunched up in confusion.

"What's Pigwidgeon?"

Before Santana had the chance to explain Rachel let out an annoyed huff.

"Um, he was Ron Weasley's pet after Scabbers turns out to be an animagus. Which you would know if you ever read the Harry Potter books. See, this is just one out of the multitude of reasons that we would never work out," Rachel snipped.

Quinn's look shifted into one of indignation.

"I can still read them! It's not a deal breaker!"

"We are not discussing this. We are talking about how Santana is worried that her child is going to be named after an owl or the son of God. Which just… sucks. I'm sure Jesus is a perfectly legitimate name in Hispanic communities and it would give him an edge were he to ever audition for a role in Jesus Christ Superstar, but I'm sure kids these days will, for lack of a better word, metaphorically crucify him. Santana, you of all people should know how hard it is living with a different name. I still remember in grade school when all the kids would call you 'Carlos' until you took to beating them senseless and I don't think Brittany would really approve of your son becoming as violent as you-" At this point Quinn physically covered Rachel's mouth with her hand in order to stop her rant.

"Rachel, remember how sometimes you say offensive things? You needed to stop talking about four run on sentences ago," Quinn told her.

She dropped her hand from Rachel's mouth and the girl looked cowed. Until she heard Quinn mutter "And that's why we would work out- I shut your mouth when you don't do it for yourself."

The blonde turned to face Santana and used a critical tone with her.

"Anyway, the point is that something's got to give, Santana. Whether it's your selfish attitude or resistance to naming your kid after a religious figure or an animal. I know which I would choose in your situation. You think about that for a bit. Me and Rach are going to go fold your laundry," Quinn told her, frankly.

And they left Santana to be with her thoughts in silence, save for a stray "Don't call me Rach," before the door closed.

* * *

><p>Brittany waved bye to Sam and nervously walked up to the front door, vaguely wondering if she should knock before coming in. Is that a weird thing to do when it's your own house? Or is it considerate when you leave the house mid argument?<p>

The blonde held the plastic bag in behind her, took a deep breath, and raised her fist to knock when the door was suddenly opened. Santana appeared, looking breathless and as nervous as Brittany felt. For once Santana was not wearing her usual sweatpants and t-shirt combo that had become a staple around the house since reaching her second trimester. She was actually dressed up.

"Hi," She said, giving her wife a small smile.

"Hi," Brittany responded, giving her a much larger smile back.

It seemed to break the tension that they were both afraid was still there. They knew that they were going to be okay.

She entered the house and followed Santana wordlessly into the living room. They sat down on the couch and both struggled with how to bridge the topic they both knew they needed to be discussed.

"I'm sorry," they both said at once.

"No, Britt, I'm really the one in the wrong here. You've been so good to me and I've just been so demanding. And then the one time that you need me to listen, I let you down. I'm so sorry."

Santana's eyes were trained downwards and she looked so guilty that Brittany grabbed her hands and held them in her own.

"No, it's my fault. I should have come up with some normal names. I get it now. Society frowns upon naming your kid after animals."

Santana finally looked her in the eye, looking pained.

"No, I should have at least left the discussion open and considered them more. I promise that whenever you want to talk about names again I'm going to keep an open mind to whatever you suggest and we're going to make the decision _together_," She said, emphasizing the last word firmly.

Santana was saying all the right words and Brittany could hardly contain the excitement she was feeling at the moment. But she had to, otherwise it would ruin the surprise.

"That's great, babe, because while I was at the zoo I thought of the perfect name."

Her wife raised an eyebrow and nodded.

"Okay, what is it?"

And that's when Brittany's excitement leapt out onto her face. She reached for the plastic bag and drew the item out from within it.

"You bought the baby an outfit when you were at the zoo?"

Brittany caught the note of pleased surprise. If Santana was happy about that, just wait until she saw all of it. She turned the onesie around, revealing that the front had a cartoon image of a Polar bear on it and below the bear was the word 'Nicholas' in a playful font.

"What do you think?"

Santana was struck speechless for a minute. She was just so damn lucky. If they both lived to be a hundred years old, she was sure that Brittany would still be surprising her and making her fall more and more in love with each day that went by.

"I think that you're amazing. Can I have your number?"

The blonde chuckled lightly.

"Well I don't think my wife would like that. I'm very devoted to my family, you know?"

Santana's heart skipped a beat from the way Brittany said family. Subconsciously, she brought a hand to her stomach.

"So you really like Nicholas? You're not just doing this because it's the name that I want?"

Brittany shook her head. "No, Nicholas is a great name. We could take him on a picnicK or have him watch Nickelodeon and during the holidays teach him about Saint Nick! And plus only the best Polar bears get to be named Nicholas. So I'm all for it."

It was disjointed as was typical, but charming. And then Brittany's stomach let out a rumble.

"Are you hungry?" Santana laughed.

"Yeah, all I've had all day was sugar. It was delicious but now I need some real food so how about I whip us up something quick?"

The last thing she wanted was to cook right now, but ordering Chinese food after a day of junk wasn't appealing either.

"How about you have some of the lasagne I made?"

"You cooked?"

"Uh huh, sure did," Santana smirked proudly. "So let me serve you up some and then we'll sit on the couch and you can tell me about your day. I'll even give you a foot massage."

Brittany loved Santana so much. It was like she could sense that Brittany's feet were killing her after that long day.

"That sounds perfect. And then you can tell me about how hanging out with Rachel went."

The brunette rolled her eyes.

"You really don't want to get me started on that one."


	5. Beginnings

Last chapter! Posted at the worst time for anyone to end up actually reading it because of all the excitement for Brittana today, but whatever, it's out! Some of this might be inaccurate because I've never given birth so bear with me.

* * *

><p>Part Four –Beginnings<p>

"I'm only going to ask this one more time– _where_ _are the strippers_?" Santana asked menacingly.

She was met with seven dumbstruck (and perhaps a little nervous) looks. Well, seven dumbstruck looks, since Puck was looking like he had been wondering the exact same thing and was waiting for someone to bring it up.

"And we're only going to tell you one more time that this is a baby shower and not a bachelorette party. Baby showers don't include strippers, unless in fact you are a pregnant stripper and your stripper friends are throwing you a baby shower," Quinn explained to her snottily.

Santana wanted to punch Quinn in the mouth. But, since she was trying to be nice and to _not_ immediately give in to instincts triggered by her hormones (and since Brittany's mother was in the room) she would refrain and let the blonde keep her pretty teeth. The bacon-wrapped sausage appetizers that lay on the coffee table before them were another matter. Soon, when it would hurt Quinn most, Santana was going to tear that shit up. So for now she just put on a tight smile and replied to her friend with an only slightly masked murderous tone.

"No, Quinn, I am not confusing the two. I am asking where they are because I was told that strippers aren't for bachelorette parties. Or at least that's what Brittany said that you told her when we were getting married. Nor are they for birthdays, Christmas, graduation, New Year's, anniversaries, or Saint Patrick's Day apparently. I was just wondering when is a situation where strippers would be a welcome addition? Just tell me."

Quinn furrowed her brows in confusion.

"What are you talking about? I never-"

She stopped midsentence as realisation overcame her. She threw an accusing look across the room at Brittany, who was holding a tray of drinks and looking more than a bit guilty. The blonde strode across the room and started handing drinks to the guests. After making her way through the guests, she finally slammed a glass of cucumber water down so hard on the coffee table in front of her wife that the liquid sloshed over onto the coaster. Santana flinched. She was quite taken aback by Brittany's uncharacteristic brusqueness and levelled a questioning look her way.

"I should be the only stripper you ever need," Brittany explained in a clipped tone.

She slumped into the seat next to Santana on the couch and crossed her arms, looking moody.

"Brittany, I didn't raise you to get jealous," Brittany's mom, Anne, told her from her seat in the semi-circle of chairs around the couch.

Obviously, the only sensible thing for Brittany to do at that was to pout. Or at least that's what she felt.

"Strippers are a beautiful thing. You should enjoy them together!" Anne continued, hands outstretched to the pair in encouragement.

Santana grinned. She always loved Brittany's mom. Everyone did. Especially Puck, who happened to be leaning closer to her now, with that look on his face that he thought made him look irresistible to women (Santana always thought made him look kind of constipated).

Basically, Brittany's mom was awesome. She even flew in from Lima just so she could come to this baby shower. Santana's parents couldn't make it and so it was really lovely to have Anne there. Brittany, however, was overjoyed with having her mother around, even if it was only for a few days. And so she had no choice but to smile at her mom and say "You're right, mom. As always."

Santana couldn't stop smiling. She thanked the gods for this miracle. One day she was going to get strippers and she would get to enjoy them with her wife. And then later when they were alone in their bedroom maybe Brittany would get all competitive and whisper something like "Those girls were hot, but they don't have anything on me, babe," and proceed to give her own strip show. Suddenly a loud ringing was heard and Santana practically leapt out of her seat at the sound.

"More appetisers! I'm just going to go get those out of the oven and I'll be right back. Just talk amongst yourselves, nothing to see here," She told them, subtly exiting the room towards the kitchen.

When she left the room Quinn and Rachel exchanged impressed looks.

"Santana helps out now?"

"Oh yes, she's been great. She helps out whenever she can. We've reached a happy medium," Brittany said with no small amount of adoration.

"Yeah, it only took eight and a half months…" Quinn muttered under her breath.

"Shut up Fabray!" Santana yelled from the kitchen.

Apparently the pregnant woman had supersonic hearing when people were badmouthing her. And in no time Santana was sauntering (well –waddling, really) out of the kitchen and depositing a tray of phyllo-wrapped something or rathers on the table.

"That looks great, Santana. I commend you on your efforts to serve something other than breadsticks," Rachel complimented.

Before Santana could make a snarky comment, Brittany interjected, "Actually Rachel, I was the one who made them. And don't worry, everything's one hundred percent vegan."

"Oh wow, that's so thoughtful of you! Usually when I go to parties I'm usually just set in a corner with a plate of crudités and left at that," Rachel explained.

A few people exchanged guilty looks while Brittany's mom seemed content to stare into space while humming the tune to "Smelly Cat" to herself.

"But it really makes me happy that you thought of me when planning the party. I think I'll just have…"

It was at this point that Rachel noticed Santana frantically shaking her head in warning. She would have ignored the girl, assuming that she was just trying to prevent Rachel from enjoying the food (and life in general), but the pregnant girl was starting to look quite ridiculous with her frantic gestures. So against her instinct, she acquiesced.

"I'll just have a little break first. Man, that cucumber water really fills you right up," Rachel lied, tapping her stomach with her hand for effect.

Brittany smiled at her warmly, clearly falling for it.

"Okay, but you've got to have some later! And now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to check up on Lord Tubbington in the other room," the blonde explained, hardly able to contain her excitement.

Rachel had been worried about leaving Lord Tubbington alone at home (she swore he became depressed at her absence), so of course she had brought him along for the day. And now he provided the perfect opportunity for Rachel to speak to Santana.

"So why did you stop me from eating that? I thought Brittany knew how to use recipes now?"

"Yeah, well after you told her that balanced vegan meals would be good for me and the baby she started making a lot of 'vegan' food," Santana said, using air quotes.

At Rachel's enquiring stare, she elaborated.

"For example, these are 'vegan' strawberry Brie bites," she gestured to the tray of food that Brittany had offered to Rachel.

Rachel's face took on a look of comprehension.

"So she doesn't know the difference between vegans and vegetarians?"

Santana shook her head. "No, it's much worse than that." She lifted the plate of bacon wrapped sausage. "I present to you 'vegan' bacon wrapped sausage."

Rachel looked incredulous, but the rest of the group (including her mother) nodded their heads in understanding because that sounded like exactly something Brittany would do.

"Oh. So she has absolutely no idea what vegan means."

The pregnant woman nodded.

"Basically."

Rachel brought a hand to her heart.

"Santana, I'm touched that you would warn me when you've done nothing but ridicule my diet in the past."

"Consider it a thanks. Because of your dumb suggestion I've been eating delicious, fattening foods every day. I know I'm going to have to work my ass off later to burn the extra calories off but it's worth it," Santana said, popping a brie bite into her mouth and practically moaning in pleasure.

"Valid point, Santana. But I think you've missed an important detail," Puck, of all people chimed in.

He waited until he had the attention of the whole room. And, with everyone looking at him expectantly, he opened his mouth.

"Brittany's mom has goooot it going on!" Puck crooned, waggling his eyebrows at the older woman.

Half the room groaned in annoyance. However, Puck was only concerned with one reaction in particular. After a moment Anne grinned, which he took for a good sign until-

"It's cute that you think you're the first one of Brittany's friends to sing that to me."

"Wait, what?" Puck's cocky look dropped off his face and his eyes darted around the room suspiciously.

"Can we _please_ not get into this? It's my baby shower," Santana said with a visible blush.

Anne leaned over and squeezed the girl's knee fondly.

"Of course hun, whatever you want."

Blushing ever the more, she cleared her throat.

"Would you guys like to know the final name we chose?"

That successfully diverted the room's attention away from any embarrassing teenage crushes she may have had. Kurt and Rachel, in particular looked rather anxious for the announcement. And then there was Puck who was just sitting there with a sour look on his face.

"What's wrong Puckerman? Learning my child's name not good enough for you?" She snipped.

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, looking very much like a petulant child getting a time out.

"All I know is that you're not naming him after me, just like how you're not naming me godfather. Noah would have been a great name," he pouted.

"Maybe if you actually did more than just talk about how much you want to babysit so that you can pick up girls that think you're a single dad then we would have considered you more. Who knows? If you grovel enough I might give the godfather thing a second thought," Santana shrugged nonchalantly.

Puck made a face at that.

"Grovel? Yeah right. Come on, I taught you how to eat a girl out. That deserves _some_ kind of recognition!"

Santana made a sound of indignation.

"You did not! I taught _you_. You were so bad at it. But really, I have to thank you, because without your terrible technique I wouldn't have been thrown into the arms of my best friend. She was more than willing to teach me."

Brittany was suddenly in the doorway, throwing Santana an amused look.

"So, are we having fun yet?" She asked.

Brittany's mom chuckled and Santana froze.

Come to think of it, talking about how your wife was the one that taught you cunnilingus when you were in high school in front of her mom is probably not a good thing. Anne seemed to be not weirded out at the moment, but Santana resolved to censor herself from now on. And even though Brittany was smiling, she could actually be pissed off at the conversation and just being secretive about it.

"Oh. Yeah. I was just asking everyone if they'd like to know the baby's full name. Do you want to tell them?"

The blonde lit up at that. She sat back down next to Santana and squeezed her wife's hand. Looking up at the group, she told them. She paused for effect (something that Rachel taught her was _crucial_) before coming out with it.

"It's Nicholas Cruz Pierce."

Rachel and Kurt clapped enthusiastically (embarrassingly). Puck and Quinn nodded approvingly. Sam gave them two thumbs up and Brittany's mom (who already knew) just grinned.

"But wait. I have a question," Rachel said, raising her hand like the annoying nerd she was.

"Of course you do," Santana sneered.

Rachel ignored this since Santana had so very nicely saved her from dairy products earlier.

"Is Cruz his middle name? Isn't that a last name? Was there any reason you chose that? Besides obviously choosing a Hispanic name to honour his Latino heritage."

"That was three questions. I'm therefore not required to answer any of them," Santana told her dismissively.

And because Quinn now considered herself Berry's knight in shining armour, she had to get her word in.

"It's simple, Rach," She started. Santana rolled her eyes at the shortening of the name. Quinn obviously thought it would get her brownie points with Berry. Quinn continued on, "It's Cruz because Santana has an obsession with Penelope Cruz. Trust me, I've seen how much of Santana's hard drive is devoted to her."

Rachel chuckled lightly and Puck let out a bark of laughter that sounded like a hyena.

"Really?" Sam asked, mouth furiously trying to not twitch into a smile.

After first shooting a glare at Quinn, Santana grabbed the tray of bacon wrapped sausage that the girl had been coveting and threw the remainder into her mouth, chewing obnoxiously and with relish. Quinn couldn't help the small gasp that escaped her at the sight. If she ever needed confirmation, there it was: Santana was still a bitch, all right.

"I wanted the middle name to be Javier, after Santana's dad, but Santana insisted on Cruz. So yeah. Cruz it is," Brittany's voice rang with jealousy, something her indifferent shrug at the end couldn't cover.

Santana caught onto it and slipped a comforting arm around her wife's middle. She leaned in close to whisper conspiratorially, "Don't tell Penelope, but you take up much more of my hard drive than she does. And I like it that way." That did the trick and now Brittany was giggling and pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.

"Yeah this is all great and stuff. But as a dude, baby showers are not my thing. I was hoping you'd have some hot lesbian friends making out in the corner or like beer pong or something," Puck complained.

Santana's eyes narrowed at that. After all that whining about wanting to be involved in the baby's life because a boy surrounded by women would need an "Uncle Puck" around he was complaining? The jerk was lucky he was even invited.

"Something to keep me and Sam interested, you know? I mean, look at the kid, he's fucking miserable!" Puck gestured to said blonde.

Sam didn't seem to like being singled out. His eyes widened and he put up his hands defensively.

"I'm not miserable! I'm having fun, I swear."

Puck looked back at Santana and shook his head pitifully, as if to say "this is what you have reduced him to." The pregnant girl sighed and rolled her eyes. If they were going to be babies about it, she'd throw them a bone.

"All right kids. After we go through the presents I'll give you two some beef jerky and beer and you can go into the other room and play Xbox like _real_ men."

The sarcastic tone was completely lost on Puck, who looked excited beyond measure. Even Sam, despite saying otherwise, seemed excited to escape. Puck leapt up and went to the corner of the room where all the presents had been deposited. When he came back he thrust a large wrapped box towards Brittany and Santana.

"Mine first, guys. This one's going to blow the rest away. Literally," he told them with a grin so familiar that warning bells went off in Santana's head. She did _not_ want to open that box.

Luckily, Brittany did the honours, tearing at the wrapping paper with gusto.

"Oh…"

The box was filled to the brim with DVDs that Puck had obviously burned himself. To leave no confusion over what exactly was on them, they were all labelled with a sharpie. Among the pile were such titles as "Lesbian fuckfest", "Cumception", "Courtenay makes a fuck buddy", and other vile titles.

"It's porn!" Puck explained gleefully, as if he needed to.

"No shit," Brittany said, stealing the words right from Santana's mouth.

"No, you don't get it. It's my _entire_ porn collection. Hours and hours of downloading and DVD burning all for your kid. You wait til he's 13 and then give him this. BAM! No need for sex ed, he's got it all here! And you don't have to worry about him downloading viruses onto the computer because I took the bullet on that one," he explained, nodding his head nobly.

It was just like Puckerman to bring porn to a baby shower. Santana should have thrown the gift out the window the second he passed it to her upon arriving at the party. She looked to her left to share a look of disapproval with Brittany but instead found her wife just rifling through the DVDs curiously.

"Noah! It's absolutely inappropriate to give a thirteen year old pornography, let alone a horde of pornography," Rachel said, looking affronted.

"I agree with Rachel," Quinn nodded.

"Only cause you want some of that," Puck sneered, causing Quinn to flush in embarrassment. "Fine, give it to him at sixteen, whatever. The point is that my present rocks and now can we move on so that I can whip Evans's RPG playing ass at Halo?"

Brittany had caught Santana's eye and gave her a playful look. She held a DVD aloft for Santana to see. The DVD was labelled "Sex Valley High." The blonde winked at Santana suggestively and suddenly her mouth went dry. Maybe this wasn't such a bad gift after all.

"Yes, right! Thanks Puck. Who's next?" she said, perhaps a little too fast.

After that impressive start, they received a bunch of gifts that were much more typical of a baby shower. Brittany's mom got them a car seat for the baby and was kind enough to have brought Santana's parents' present (a gorgeous stroller set) all the way from Lima. Kurt got them some chic baby clothes that gave Brittany pause as she wondered if the baby ever got cold in the womb –since it was naked and all ("Do you think we could send a sweater up or something?", "No.") Quinn gave them this lovely designer mobile, and oddly enough Sam got them a breast pump. Santana immediately thought that Puck had put him up to it as a joke but he blushed so hard when she opened it and stuttered out something about his mom telling him it was a good thing to have that she believed him. She thanked him and sent the boys off to play their video games.

Finally they got to Rachel. Rachel, who looked so damn excited for Santana to open her gift that she couldn't stand it. Rolling her eyes, Santana complied. And, against all odds, she was pleasantly surprised.

"A diaper bag? Wow, something actually useful and not crazy. I was half-expecting to find a cat in here. Thanks Ber-"

"That's not all there is! You're missing the best part!" Rachel burst out, unable to contain herself.

Brittany took the bag out of Santana's hands and reached into it. She pulled out a book. A book that had Rachel in a glittering gown plastered on the cover.

"Berry Nice to Meet You?" She asked blankly.

"Isn't it exciting? It's my new autobiography! About the trials and tribulations I've had to overcome in order to become the star I am today. I've signed your son's copy and everything. So after he's read it and learned some valuable lessons about perseverance he can sell the book for thousands," the girl gushed.

Santana nodded in agreement with the same amount of enthusiasm as Rachel was showing. Then she took the book from Brittany, walked to the other side of the room and dropped it in the trash. Rachel shrieked and practically dove across the room to retrieve the book. Santana was about to pat herself on the back for a job well done (that book would probably do more harm to their child than the box of porn would) but suddenly she was caught by a sharp pain in her midsection. All the air in her lungs was released in a huff and the pain was making it hard to take any air back in. In the background of her mind, Brittany was chastising her and Quinn was trying to calm Rachel down but all Santana wanted to do was to double over.

"Babe, are you okay?"

Much too late, Santana was remembering that she had a very low pain threshold.

"Nooooo…" She let out, clutching her sides.

And that pitiful whine was what made everyone in the room stop what they were doing with the sudden realisation of what was happening.

"Santana, are you going into labour?" Quinn said, looking quite pale.

Santana just wanted to sit down because standing was not working for her. Brittany was now holding her and rubbing her back soothingly.

"Let me take care of this. I once had a guest spot as an OBGYN doctor on a network hit so I know what I'm doing," Rachel said, confidently.

She strode towards Santana and looked at her with what she thought was a caring, compassionate look. Little did she know that Santana wouldn't let Berry near her vagina with a ten foot pole. Scratch that. _Especially_ if she had a ten foot pole.

"Now I think this might be a case of false labour. Tell me, where is the pain coming from? Does it feel like a period cramp? Is the pain radiating or not?"

The pain was like a period cramp on steroids. It was in her abdomen, radiating out to her back and she wanted to rip Rachel a new one for being so condescending but she could hardly even stand up right now.

"Shut up Rachel."

To everyone's surprise, it was Brittany who had said it. She was looking around the room with a steely determination that Santana had rarely seen in her. She was taking charge and if there was one thing that could comfort Santana right now, it was that.

"Quinn, run upstairs and get the prepared luggage in the corner of the room. Rachel, go start the car. Kurt, go tell Puck and Sam. Mom, help me move Santana," Brittany instructed.

And with that everyone in the room unfroze and scrambled to motion. With a momentary respite from her pain, Santana looked up at her wife with endless admiration.

"God, I love you so much."

Brittany caressed her hair and looked at her warmly before replying "I know."

But then another wave went through her and went all the way to her spine and now she was gasping out. She felt someone else –Brittany's mother, no doubt –grasp her and help Brittany hold her up since it seemed her legs weren't the most reliable things at this current moment in time. The next thing she knew, she was being helped into the back seat of a car.

"It's not time yet. Why is he coming now? It's too early," Santana muttered, deliriously.

Brittany and Anna got into the back seat with her. Brittany laid her hand on her wife's stomach and tried to give her a consoling look. She hated seeing Santana in pain. Just seeing her face contort and knowing that it would get so much worse once they got to the hospital made Brittany want to bawl her eyes out. She wished that she could take some of the pain that Santana was going through and with that they could get through it together. But she didn't have that access to that kind of super power, so she would just have to be a super supportive wife right now instead.

"Honey, remember what the doctor said? It's not too early. The baby will be fine, he just wants to come out to see us a little early," the blonde cooed, wrapping her arms around the woman's shoulders.

"What an asshole," Santana moaned.

Anna took the girl's hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

"Sweetie, you don't mean that. I know right now it feels like he's having a dance party in your guts, but when it's all over and you're holding him, you're going to feel like your heart's just bursting with love. You might still call him an asshole then, but it'll be out of love," the older Pierce told her.

The small speech was about as moving as it was odd, but it seemed to calm Santana down a bit. With Brittany's encouragement, she started doing her breathing exercises.

"Hey guys, I called the hospital and they know we're on our way," Quinn told them through the window.

She hefted the luggage into the back and then dropped into the passenger seat.

"Finally," Rachel huffed. "Though really I suppose you could have dawdled more, since this baby's probably not going to come for hours."

"Shut up Rachel, you're not a real doctor, you don't know anything!" Santana spat out.

The girl held up her hands defensively before dropping them back down to turn the ignition.

"I'm just saying. You know how in movies the baby's born in like half an hour? That doesn't really happen too often."

"Just drive," Brittany sighed, she didn't want Santana to get upset because if she got upset she might remember the story her mother told her about being in labour for 16 hours. She might suddenly decide that she didn't feel up to giving birth.

The ride to the hospital was quick, punctured by periodic moans of pain from Santana, with Brittany and Quinn promising that they would be there soon and that the doctors were going to give her some good drugs to numb the pain. Brittany was thankful that Rachel didn't go on a rant about how harmful those drugs were and how Santana should have a painkiller-free delivery. This saved the blonde from having to go all Lima Heights on Rachel (which was good because she only married _into_ Lima Heights, she wasn't actually from there. So she wouldn't really know what to do.)

When they arrived at the hospital there was someone waiting for them with a wheelchair. Santana greatly appreciated the offer since she was not particularly enjoying being dragged along by Brittany and Anna. Though, to the hospital worker's great confusion, he thought he heard her mutter something like "Fucking Artie" when she slumped into the chair.

The next thing Santana knew, she was on a hospital bed and some doctor –a _real_ one –was taking a gander at her vagina. Pretty soon _everyone_ was going to get a gander at her vagina. Nurses, doctors, interns, Brittany's mom even. Her lady parts were going to be a veritable sideshow attraction. People would line up for miles to see it do tricks and to throw peanuts at it.

Wow. Even _she_ realised that she was being delusional. When was this thing going to fucking end?

"Well by the looks of your cervix, this is going to be a quick delivery. You're going to be in labour for maybe another three hours," the doctor said in a positive tone, as though she was telling them joyful news.

Santana's jaw dropped.

"How is three hours quick? How can it possibly take that long? I feel like he's going to pop out any minute!"

"Oh no," Doctor Green said. "When the baby's just about to come out you'll _know_. I'll check up on you in a little bit."

She looked Brittany in the eye. "This would be a good time to call family and pick up some ice chips for her. Before things get intense."

The blonde nodded and thanked her. When the doctor left the room, she turned to her wife. Santana looked beat. She was pale and tired looking. And in the darks of her eyes, Brittany saw a tiny sliver of fear. The most she could think to do to alleviate the fear was to brush the woman's bangs out of her face and place a tender kiss at her temple.

"Babe, I'm going to go give your parents a call. Do you want them to fly over tonight?"

Though she looked like a young girl that could use the comfort of her parents at the moment, she shook her head.

"No, just tell them to come in a few days, when things… settle."

Biting her lip, Brittany nodded.

"Alright, I'll just let them know that everything's going okay. I won't be gone long. Mom's going to stay here with you to keep you company."

"Absolutely. And I promise to entertain you with embarrassing childhood stories about Brittany, okay?" Anna said, clasping her hands together in enthusiasm.

Brittany knew she could leave without worrying too much when she heard Santana chuckle and murmur "Okay" in response.

"So, when Brittany was a toddler we were staying in this old motel and every room had a small kitchen with a gas stove in it. Brittany was exploring the room and had somehow turned the gas on full blast without me knowing. Now this was when I used to be a smoker…" was the tidbit Brittany heard before she closed the door to the room.

* * *

><p>"What the fuck?"<p>

Rachel lifted her head up from the outdated fashion magazine she was reading to find Quinn holding her autobiography open and looking utterly aghast. She blinked and then a lightbulb turned on in her head.

"Oh, did you get to the chap-" Rachel started.

"-ter where you talk about your 'lesbian experiences'? Is that all I am to you? Fodder for your book? Some experiment you get to brag about? No wonder you didn't want to date me, you don't even like girls!" Quinn ranted, jerking the book about violently.

Rachel had to roll her eyes at this immature show. Quinn was even more of a drama queen than she was, and that was saying a lot.

"I am attracted to women, I'm not faking it. If you read further into the chapter, you'll see that you're only a small segment, the rest is made up of women I've dated."

Quinn scoffed in disbelief. Then her eyes went back to scanning through the pages. Now she was letting out the strangled yelp that Rachel had been waiting for. Quinn was terribly, terribly predictable.

"So you've dated these other women but never once thought of dating me? What's wrong with you? I'm a catch!"

The blonde threw down the book and crossed her arms over her chest, intent upon glaring the other girl into submission.

"Clearly," Rachel said sardonically.

"Hey guys, how's it going?"

At the sight of Brittany, the two women leapt to their feet, their argument forgotten.

"Britt, how's Santana? Is everything going alright?" Quinn asked.

"Everything's fine. I just finished calling Santana's parents and got this cup of chipped ice for her. Pregnant women like it. I don't really get why, because it's like a plain snowcone when the snowcone machine's not working so well," Brittany looked in the cup curiously before raising her eyes back up. "Where are the guys?"

"They were a little at a loss of what to do, so I told them to go home for now. No sense in us all being here, especially when Santana's going to be overwhelmed as it is," Rachel said, wringing her hands a bit nervously.

The soon-to-be mother seemed relieved by this. It was nice having a lot of support, but she didn't want to have to think about all the people in the waiting room when her wife was busy giving birth.

"Thanks you guys, you've been great. It's going to be something like three more hours to go. Don't feel obligated to stay if you have things to do."

The other two just shook their heads.

"No, we're staying. We'll be here for you if you need us," Quinn said, then leaned forward to give her friend a quick hug.

Brittany smiled warmly and then she was leaving the room, rushing back to her wife's side. And Rachel and Quinn were left to the Reader's Digests and Cosmo issues that had stunningly bad sex tips. They sat in silence for a while. Quinn wondered if the subscribers of Cosmo simply didn't realise that "rake your fingernails lightly over his back to ignite his passion" was a sex tip in every single issue or if they simply didn't care that the same tips were used over and over. She had decided it must be the latter when she heard Rachel speak.

"You know all those women I've dated? The ones you're so jealous of?"

Without even trying, Quinn's face fell into a grimace.

"Yeah?"

"Those girls come and go, but you've stuck around longer than any of them. And you know why that is?"

Quinn felt her heart leap at the question. Was this the moment she had been waiting for?

"Why?" she almost whispered.

"It's because you have something that they don't."

The blonde was pretty much certain where this was going to lead to. She felt a soft smile spread over her face.

"And what is that?"

Rachel grabbed her hands and looked deep into her eyes.

"You give great head."

Quinn felt all her expectations shatter to a million little pieces. When did Rachel become such a horndog? She rolled her eyes and snatched her hands away from the shorter girl's. She held up the Cosmo issue as a barrier preventing Rachel from contact. It wasn't all that effective.

"It's a compliment. Would you care to pay me a similar compliment in return?" Rachel asked, expectantly.

Quinn flipped the page and encountered an article entitled "Make Him Work For It."

"You know what? I can't think of a single thing," She said dryly. "But remind me later to call my exes Jake and Emma."

_That_ shut her up.

* * *

><p>Hours later, things were getting real.<p>

"Oh god, I'm dying. I'm dying Britt," Santana moaned weakly.

"No you aren't, honey, you're doing great," Brittany said, but threw a concerned look the doctor's way anyway.

Doctor Green looked up to Santana and gave her a reassuring nod.

"Absolutely. Everything's looking normal. The baby's in the right position and there are no abnormalities. You just need to keep going."

Santana didn't seem to believe them, however, so convinced was she that she was going to die in childbirth.

"I have some things to confess to you before I go. I don't want to die before telling you," She said morosely.

Brittany gripped her wife's hand a little tighter.

"Don't say stuff like that. You're going to be fine and soon we're going to have a beautiful baby boy. We're going to take Nick home and feed him and change him and do all the parent things we're meant to do."

Santana just gave her a sorrow-filled, regretful look.

"I'm _so_ sorry for leaving you on your own in this. I wish I could stop it, but I can't. So I need to tell you some things," She said with great gravitas before taking a deep breath. "First, I keep a gun taped to the underside of the bed. It's occurred to me that with a baby crawling around that's not the best place to keep it so you should move it or get rid of it, whatever you need to do with it."

Brittany paused and blinked dumbly. A gun? Like, a gun-gun?

Well, that was new. What other secrets did Santana have?

She didn't have to wonder for long because Santana was intent on going through her list thoroughly.

"On the left hand side of our bedroom's closet there is a secret compartment. In it there's my grandmother's ring and a couple other family heirlooms. If you sell them you and Nick can be comfortable for a few years without me around to help out."

"Santana, you're not dying. You're not going anywhere," Brittany told her firmly while wondering when the heck Santana had the time to install a secret compartment without her knowledge.

Santana's eyes flashed and her grip on Brittany's hand tightened, whether it was from a contraction or out of anger was not certain.

"Brittany, don't you dare interrupt my dying speech or else you're going to regret it later when you're crying over my dead body," she warned before pausing for a second as though something had occurred to her. "By the way, I want to be cremated." She winced noticeably. "Jesus fucking Christ, even with the drugs this sucks."

Brittany watched helplessly as her wife's face contorted with pain. When Santana's eyes opened again, they were tear-filled. The blonde rubbed her free hand up and down her wife's arm, as a meagre offer of comfort.

"One last thing… I hope you won't be mad about it, but you never know…" Santana trailed off.

"I won't be, I promise."

She panted slightly, still looking a little worried for Brittany's reaction, but apparently she was too beaten up to care.

"The large bottom drawer of the desk in my study is filled to the brim with nude photos of you."

Brittany saw Dr Green's eyebrow quirk, the only indication that she had been paying attention to their conversation up to that point. Her mother, who had been staying out of things so Brittany could support her wife properly, coughed slightly. Brittany told herself that considering the fact that her wife was displaying her vagina to anyone who cared to walk into the room, _she_ had no right to be bashful right now.

So she just said, "Oh. Okay. Um, is that all?"

Santana shook her head. "No. There are also DVDs. You know how sometimes when we were about to have sex I had that video camera on a tripod set up in the corner of the room? I told you that when the red light was on, that meant that the camera was turned off. That was a lie. It was always on."

Brittany inwardly groaned in annoyance. Santana wanting to have some wank material for when she was away on business trips was all well and good but couldn't she have just told Brittany about it? I mean, she was voted "most likely to make a sex tape" by her graduating class for god's sake. And maybe that way she wouldn't have ruined so many takes of "Fondue for Two" because she figured if the red light off that meant the camera was on. No wonder Santana had volunteered to help tape the show so often –she wanted to cover her tracks. Maybe as Santana's punishment, Brittany would get to have her very own porn drawer, filled with pictures and DVDs of her scantily clad wife.

But they would talk about that later, because right now the thing she needed to say was "I forgive you. That's everything?"

Sweat beading on her brow, Santana nodded weakly.

"Good thing because it's time," Doctor Green said.

"Now?" Santana asked, looking pale.

"Now," The doctor confirmed.

"Santana, I know you can do this. Just think of Nicholas. Soon this is going to be over and you're going to be able to hold him in your arms. Just be brave for a little bit longer," Brittany said, encouragingly.

The pregnant woman took in one last shaky breath and then locked eyes with the doctor.

"Okay. Let's do this."

* * *

><p>It took a while for all the excitement to die down. And by that she meant it took a while for all the goddamn fucking people to leave.<p>

Well, at least becoming a mother hasn't turned Santana soft like she was afraid it might.

Now she was stuck here in this hospital room for the next two days. Or longer. As the nurse had been so kind as to inform her, they weren't going to let her leave until she took a shit. And the idea of using any kind of muscles near the area that she just pushed out a watermelon sized baby out of right now was absolutely incomprehensible.

So instead of trying to comprehend it, she was just going to lie in the bed in her utter exhaustion. Nick was in her arms, all healthy and pink and sleepy. He'd better be looking forward to some stories about all the struggle she had to go through to make sure he was born because that's definitely what he was getting when he was older.

"Do you want me to put him in the crib yet?" Brittany whispered, not wanting to wake their son up.

Her wife was lying on her side in the bed, looking at Santana as though she hung the moon in the sky. As though she and Nick were everything that mattered in the world. Santana gave her a small smile.

"Not yet. I just want to hold him for a little bit longer."

It was late. Berry, Quinn, and Brittany's mother had all visited and shown their support and done all the other stuff you were supposed to do to make your friend forget that her vagina was never going to be the same again. Then, finally, they had left Brittany and Santana to themselves and she couldn't have asked for anything more. She had been exhausted, and trying to pay attention to them for half an hour longer would have been more than she could handle. Their friends would have to do their proper "Oh hey you have a baby! And a gaping hole!" visits later on.

Brittany traced the outline of Santana's face with the tips of her fingers lovingly. Santana felt her smile tug wider at the feel of the caress. The blonde in turn smiled brightly, before slowly leaning down and pressing a kiss at her temple.

"I love you so much," Brittany murmured. "We're going to have such an amazing life together, the three of us."

"I know," Santana agreed, looking down at Nick's crown of thin brown hair.

Here's the strange thing. Santana had been crying almost every day since she got pregnant. It wasn't unusual for Brittany to come home to find Santana weeping, with a million little scrunched up Kleenexes littering the couch, coffee table, and floor. But now, at a time where she had every reason in the world to be crying, not a single tear came out. And then here was Brittany, taking in Santana and Nick and the little family they had created together, with tears misting her eyes. She was finally breaking down.

It was beautiful.

And with that last sign, she was sure that everything was going to be all right in the world. They were going to take their baby home, get woken up every two hours, change countless diapers, and give Nick everything he needed in life. And maybe one day when he grew up Nick could start his own little family. If it could be half as happy and loving as theirs was, Santana knew she'd be content.

* * *

><p>Eight Months Later<p>

"What the cuss is my baby wearing?"

Brittany looked up guiltily at Santana, who was standing in the doorway of the room looking appalled.

"Thank you for remembering not to swear in front of the baby, but the outfit's totally cute!" the girl argued.

Nick just babbled on the floor, bedecked in a duck outfit. Santana was livid, she couldn't believe Brittany would go behind her back on this. Really though, considering Brittany's track record Santana should have seen it coming.

"No, you are not going to make this about how cute he looks. We agreed that he was going to wear the taco costume for Halloween and so that's what's going to happen." Santana knew she had to be firm or else Nick was going to end up being a duck cat unicorn princess by the end of the night.

Brittany rolled her eyes at her wife's antics. "I _know_ that. But I bought a few different outfits for fun and wanted to take pictures of him wearing them." She put on a serious face. "You only get a little while to dress them up in cute things before they get old enough to be embarrassed so you've got to take advantage of it while you can."

Santana appreciated the sentiment, she really did. "But our guests are going to be here any minute and I still don't have my sexy devil costume on. So can you please put the taco costume on him while I go do that?"

"Yeah, about that…" Brittany bit her lip nervously. "I don't want him to dress like a taco. I have another costume for him."

She reached down into the bag near her feet and pulled out…

"A hotdog? You want him to be a hotdog?"

Santana was clearly not impressed. But Brittany was sticking to her guns.

"Yes, a hotdog. He doesn't need salsa and lettuce and all that jazz. Just a regular old hotdog," She grinned brightly and Nick himself let out a happy giggle, as though agreeing with her.

Santana sighed with impatience and then looked at her watch one last time. Taco, hotdog, what did it really matter? She needed to get ready before Puck knocked down her door with the keg he was told not to bring.

"Okay, you do that. I'm going to get my devil costume on."

But before she could leave, Brittany grabbed her wrist to stop her.

"Actually, about your costume…"

* * *

><p>Quinn didn't want to assume anything. Because when you assume, you make an ass out of you and me. Well, usually it was only she who ended up looking like an ass, but still.<p>

But Rachel had gone out of her way to ask her if she wanted to go to Brittany and Santana's party together, that had to be a good sign, right?

And she had complimented Quinn on her Black Swan outfit. Although she had also said that it "suited her". That could either be a compliment, like Rachel thought she had all the beauty and poise of a ballerina, or it could mean that Rachel thought she was mentally unstable.

For her sanity's sake, she chose to take it as a compliment.

As she walked up to the front door of the house she threw a tentative smile Rachel's way. She was dressed as Barbra Streisand in Funny Girl. With her hair done up and wearing a faux leopard fur coat she looked stunning. But Quinn had to play it cool and remember the advice from those self-help books about dating women. She just needed to knock on the door and let Rachel in first and let the night magically unfold from there. The door swung open and all her plans went right out of her head.

"What do you want?" Santana, apparently masquerading as a bottle of mustard, grouched from the doorway.

Quinn was speechless. Rachel, however was most certainly not.

"Oh. My. God."

Santana rolled her eyes exaggeratedly.

"Yeah, yeah, I cussing get it. Now get in the house before I lock you out."

She lead them to the living room, where the rest of the guest had already arrived and were in the process of drinking and eating way too much.

"Hey, finally they arrive! Were you late because you had to pull over to get a quickie in?" Puck, dressed as a shark (a sex shark, he would later correct them) asked them rudely.

Rachel was about to go on a rant about how it was unacceptable to view their relationship as one of his pornos when Santana tugged both her and Quinn by the arms to the corner of the room.

"Before you laugh any more at my expense, I want to show you why I dressed up like this," she told them.

And there was Brittany, dressed as a bottle of ketchup, holding Nick the hotdog. She waved at them when she saw them.

"Hey guys, glad you could make it!"

"See you jerks, I did this for my family," Santana explained defensively.

And they did make a lovely family. Which is why both Quinn and Rachel let out extended "awwww"s at seeing them all together.

"See, it works because I'm sweet and she's kind of sour. But she doesn't like me to say that," Brittany explained, throwing a sheepish look Santana's way.

"I love all of your costumes, but I guess I'm just a little surprised. I'm more used to seeing Santana's assets on full display on Halloween."

"I guess everyone's got to grow up some time," Quinn said with an amused smirk. She poked Santana's foam costume a couple of times before the woman batted her hands away.

"Yeah, yeah. Okay, go eat some bacon, get drunk and make some bad decisions you dumb kids."

She shooed them away to the punch bowl.

The rest of the night went great. Everyone wanted to check in on Nicholas and ask the routine questions ("how many months is he?", "has he said his first words yet?") And everyone wanted to hold their baby and try to make him laugh. No seriously, everyone. Like Santana felt like she could have sold tickets for it and made a decent profit. She only got a little jealous when Sam or Rachel got Nick to giggle because he was a cheap laugh. When the door opened he found it funny. When the phone rang he found it _hilarious_. But when 8:30 rolled around the little guy passed out and his party was over. Brittany brought him upstairs to put him to bed and the adults continued their party downstairs.

Santana didn't drink anything, but Brittany had two glasses of white wine, which meant that Santana was getting lucky later. She just had to make sure to police everyone's alcohol consumption in order to ensure that no one (and by no one, she really meant Puck) would end up having to sleep on her couch tonight.

So she linked arms with Brittany (that's all they could really do in those outfits) and they watched Quinn hound Rachel around the room. Quinn kept coming to them with questions like "What does it mean when she says 'Give me some space to breathe, Quinn'?" and Rachel kept coming up to them, asking "Should I pretend I'm seeing someone? Honestly, she's suffocating me." There was only so much that Santana could take, so finally she snapped and strode up to the pair.

"Berry, why don't you just let Quinn slip it in, already? She's dying for it and if it'll get you to shut up then that's just icing on the disgusting cake."

And with that she strode back to her wife and considered the matter done with. She saw the two sit down together and talk a bit, probably sorting through their issues or something. The important part was that they did not come to her to bitch or ask for advice for the rest of the night. They even helped clean up at the end of the night, after everyone else had left, as though they felt bad about scarring her mind with the mental image of them having any kind of sexual relations.

But all in all it was a great night. She was reminded of this when she was lying on her bed and Brittany was stripping her ketchup costume, and everything else off. Then again later when she was holding her wife comfortably, with nothing but pure, beautiful silence coming from the baby monitor. Brittany nestled closer to her with a sigh.

"Next year he should be a cat and I should be a crazy cat lady and you should be an animal protection officer wanting to take all my cats away from me," the blonde muttered sleepily.

Santana said "We'll see," in response, not wanting to commit to a hazy idea formed when Brittany was half-asleep. But then she remembered that the last time she said "We'll see" she ended up pregnant. So while drifting off to sleep with a small smile on her face, she started wondering what exactly animal protection officers wore.

The End.


End file.
